Blood Money
by cherryvixen416
Summary: "Someone's trying to kill me," he said hotly. His voice was rough, fractured by coughs. He sounded close to death.
1. Chapter 1

_Here's another of my little NIMH stories. I know it's all I publish, but its also the only film I really like. And besides, I'm 8._

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><p>The sun had just started to rise, but Mrs. Brisby was already awake. She kept having dreams she felt she shouldn't, and had long since been up thinking about them. It had been more than a year since she'd met the Rats, more than a year since they'd departed for Virginia. She hadn't seen them, or heard from them since. She figured it was just a precaution, as even the smallest slip-up could result in their' being recaptured, or worse killed. She shuddered at the very thought of it.<p>

_Though I would like to know how they're doing. _She sighed, realizing that, like so many other things, it would never happen. Saddened by the thought, she pulled her old red coat around her shoulders, taking a woven basket over her arm. Not long after they'd arrived she'd discovered a small stand of apple trees, and was going out to gather the fruit. She blushed as she recalled her dream from the night before, but shook her head to clear it from her mind. Though there was a chance it could happen, it most likely never would.

_But why did they just leave?_ The thought dominated her mind as she slipped outside, mindful of her sleeping children. The sun felt warm on her cheeks, but she barely felt it with the crisp wind that blew through the town. She pulled her jacket more tightly around her, zipping it half way. The trees stood at the edge of her property, a few feet away from a small stream. The sun continued to climb as she picked them, but it was still fairly early when she heard her stomach growl. She had a green apple clasped in her hand, and took a small bite of the tart fruit. She'd just swallowed it when she heard a car roll up behind her, and whirled to face a dark blue pickup truck.

Her heart raced as the door opened, thinking of the only person it could have been, when a white-haired man with a long ponytail stepped onto her driveway. He was just a head taller than she was. Mrs. Brisby stepped closer, recognizing the man's taunt, frightened face.

The old man looked at her, his grey eyes wide with tears. She came closer, fruit and basket slipping from her hands. "Mr. Ages…"

"Elizabeth," there was a harsh strain of terror in his voice. "I hoped I would find you."

"What's happened?" she asked. She noticed faint lines of blood on his hands.

"It's Justin," he whispered. "I fear he's in grave danger."

"What?" her own eyes became filmed with tears. The old man sighed heavily, pulling her in his arms, allowing her head to rest on his narrow chest.

"Justin was terribly wounded," he continued, voice shaking. "He's in the hospital back in Virginia."

"What happened?" she repeated. She lifted her head to stare in his eyes.

"We don't know how it happened," Ages explained. "But he was found just this morning," his voice broke. "I'm afraid he's more dead than alive, but his only thoughts have been of you."

"Of me?" her eyes widened. Did he really feel that way?

"Yes," Ages nodded slowly. "He had just woken up when I last saw him, and he begged me to find you, saying he had something important to tell you."

She nearly fainted, then suddenly remembered her family. "What about my children?" she asked. "I can't just leave them here."

Ages' lips held the ghost of a smile. He turned back to the truck, just as a much younger man was climbing out. His dark eyes glittered with tears, but he too smiled at the sight of Elizabeth.

"Hey, Mrs. B," his voice seemed to have deepened, and it held no trace of the whimsical tone it had when they'd met back in Rocklin. She only smiled at the sight of him, too shaken to do anything else. He put a firm hand on her shoulder, using the other to wipe her soft cheeks. "I'll bring them up in a few days," he whispered. She nodded, barely able to keep her legs from collapsing beneath her. She felt as though she were moving through fog as she went inside, silently gathering a few days' worth of clothes from her bedroom, checking to see that her children were all still asleep. Jeremy briefly hugged her on the way out, promising to take good care of them, and to break the news in the gentlest way he knew how. It took ten minutes to convince her that they'd be all right, and another ninety to reach the town where Justin and his friends had settled. Elizabeth had fallen asleep early into the drive, but awoke when the engine was shut off. She rubbed her eyes, looking up at a stark-white hospital, several stories high. Clouds had grown to cover the sky, blocking out the sun. A fine mist had also started to fall, adding to the sadness that crowded her heart. She followed Ages through the front doors, paying little attention to the relations the old man gave to the nurse. He cast himself in the role of Justin's grandfather, and Elizabeth in that of his fiancée. The nurse at the desk directed them to the fifth floor, room 236B, but warned them that he might not be awake. Ages thanked the woman, who wasn't much younger than he was, pulling Elizabeth to an elevator, where she finally regained her senses.

"His fiancée?" she gasped. Ages chuckled a bit, but there was little humor in his voice when he spoke.

"You'll understand soon enough." He turned to the doors just as they opened, revealing 236B. Justin was awake when they entered, facing the rain-spattered window. Elizabeth barely recognized him, and it only grew worse when he turned, nearly bringing a scream from her throat. His handsome face was battered and bruised, a large bite of flesh missing from his right cheek. His dark eyes widened when he saw her, nearly snapping his IV cord in his rush to sit up.

"Mrs. Brisby…" his voice was rough, and the breath rattled in his chest. He lifted a scarred hand, one that also appeared to be burned. Elizabeth ran to him, tightly embracing him.

"Oh, Justin," she whispered. Her tears soaked the bandages that covered his chest, and she barely noticed when his arms slipped around her. He ran a hand through her dark hair, barely able to believe she was here. He lifted her chin gently with his hand, gazing deeply into her red-rimmed blue eyes. He barely resisted the urge that stirred in his heart, instead wiping the salt from her cheeks. He gave a small smile, but pulled away when he felt that pain pound through his ribs. Elizabeth backed away, seeing for the first time how much he had changed. Her shock only increased as she took in his appearance. He was now thinner than her ex-husband. "What happened to you?"

Justin did little more than shake his head, lying back against his crystal white pillows. "Someone's been trying to kill me," he hissed, voice dripping with anger. He ignored the fear in her eyes. "They tried to poison me, which is how I landed here in the first place." He wiped at his mouth with a skeletal hand. "I had just been released when I was knocked unconscious, and I didn't come to until late last night, when I asked Ages to find you."

Elizabeth found she could no longer stand. Mr. Ages all but carried her to the room's only chair, himself leaning on the foot of Justin's bed. He then buried his face in one of his bloodstained hands. "We have no idea who could be after him," he said, continuing his friend's story. "Though we believe it has something to do with his change in occupation."

"Occupation?"

Justin smiled, reaching over to the small table beside his bed, pulling out a police badge. "I was actually going through the academy when we met," he offered, but then his grin disappeared. "However, it wasn't long after I graduated that I began making enemies." He coughed a few times, violently. A thin froth fell from his lips, its white shade tinged with blood. Elizabeth quickly wiped it away, only to be near when the fit increased in ferocity, racking his entire body. Ages took a water bottle from an old backpack, pouring its clouded contents into a small cup. Justin calmed minutes after ingesting it, panting heavily as he again fell against the cushions that supported him.

"As you can see, the toxins haven't yet been flushed from his system," the old doctor placed the bottle on the table, wiping the sweat from his brow. Elizabeth did the same with Justin, only to have her hand fall into his. Ages gave no sign he had noticed, as he continued to explain what had occurred in the past year. The group had long since split up, but kept in close contact, especially now that this had happened to their close friend. A few of them, mostly those with children, had even moved farther into the northeast, and hadn't been heard from since. There had also been no word on the trio that had been sent back to prison, but there was news of a recent break, where several inmates had escaped and were now hiding in the streets. It wasn't long after this that Justin began feeling sick, and he'd begun to grow frightened as it only grew worse. It had felt like a bad cold at first, but then the pain had become unbearable, and one day he found it impossible to move. He had been trapped in his room, paralyzed and hardly able to breathe. He felt he'd been near death when his partner finally came by, and the next thing he knew, he'd woken up screaming in a hospital bed.

They'd thought it was a virus at first, but then realized that it was a case all too similar to one that had happened before. The victim had unknowingly ingested numerous doses of a toxic chemical, one that caused his body to waste away, until he had finally collapsed outside a hotel; but by then it had already been too late.

"I was lucky she found me when she did," Justin said quietly. There was still a white stream of froth dripping down his cheek. "It took me months to recover, but then I was attacked just minutes after I was released."

He then described, in frightening detail, what had happened, how he'd been knocked unconscious by a hard blow to the back of his head. He'd collapsed on the sidewalk, where his attacker had proceeded to stab him several times, as well as inject more of that poison into his veins. Then, for some reason, they'd decided to cut some of the flesh from his face, as though they wanted proof of their deeds. But what angered Justin the most was that, though he'd been directly in front of the hospital, no one had come near him until they were sure his assailant had gone.

"But how do you know all this?" Elizabeth questioned him, recalling that he'd been out cold.

"They showed me the security tapes," he explained. "To see if I could get some positive identification." He'd gotten nothing of the sort, as the figure, whoever they'd been, had been clothed in solid black from head to toe. They had even left their knife on the scene, though the only DNA evidence had been Justin's blood on its blade. "Whoever is doing this, they're taking every precaution not to get caught, and without a solid description to go by, there's almost nothing the department can do."

Elizabeth sat in silence. Ages excused himself to the hallway. She then laid a hand on Justin's thin shoulder, staring in his eyes. "I'm just glad you're alive," she whispered, and barely resisted the urge to kiss him.


	2. Chapter 2

"Jeremy, what are you doing here?" Timothy stared up at his friend, eyes wide. He and his siblings had just woken up, and couldn't find their mother anywhere.

"Where's mommy?" asked Cynthia. She gave a small yawn, rubbing at her eye with a hand.

"Your mom had to go take care of something," Jeremy told them. "I can't take you to her right now," he added, knowing what they were about to ask. "But you'll be able to see her in a few days."

"Where did she go?" questioned Teresa, knowing their mom wouldn't have just up and left. Jeremy shook his head, wondering what he should say. He had promised to be gentle with them, then figured that they would be able to handle the truth, but he decided to leave out the worst of the details.

"Justin's been hurt," he said at last. "She's gone to go see him. Mr. Ages brought me here to watch you; he'll call when I'm able to bring you up there."

"Up where?" said Martin. Jeremy hesitated, then realized there was no harm in them knowing.

"It's a small town in Virginia. The Rats settled up there, and now she'd gone with Mr. Ages to see Justin. He's been in the hospital for months now."

"What?" Teresa's jaw fell to the floor. She couldn't imagine Justin in a hospital bed, not even for a night. "Why?"

"That's something I can't tell you," Jeremy said firmly. He held up a hand to silence their pleas. "You'll know soon enough," he told them. "But I won't tell you before then. Besides," he added, recalling what day it was. "Don't you have school today?"

They groaned collectively, yet the older three obeyed. Cynthia stayed, however, playing with the hem of her nightgown.

"Mommy always drives me to preschool," she said. "I'm too little to ride with the big kids."

Jeremy laughed, rubbing her head. "You'll have to do it, just for today," he told her.

She seemed excited by the prospect. "Really?" she asked. Jeremy nodded, and she scampered off to get ready. He sighed heavily after she left, dropping into a chair. He leaned forward, burying his face in his hands. He'd happened upon that town completely by accident, heading up to Maine to visit his grandparents, and had decided to stay after his trip was through. He'd been there barely a week when he met Justin, who had caught him staring at several teen girls who were skinny-dipping in a lake. It had taken them a few minutes to recognize each other, and Jeremy had quickly begun to ask questions. Justin had answered most of them, then had turned the tables. They'd been in the midst of all this when a call had come on over his radio, saying that there was a robbery in progress at an apartment complex.

The thief was no one he recognized, though he'd felt he should have, but they hadn't seemed too happy when he'd showed up, and even less thrilled when they'd spotted the nineteen-year-old waiting in his car. They had quickly dropped their goods, pulling a blade from a hidden sheath. However, instead of attempting to kill him as they should have, they'd done little more than open a wound on his arm, dashing into the streets and being lost from sight. His partner, who for some reason hadn't been with him, had shown up a few minutes later, and had immediately started kissing him. Justin had shoved her away with his good arm, glaring at her from the corner of his eye as he stood up. He'd later told Jeremy that her name was Marina, and that she claimed to be his girlfriend.

"I'm not seeing anyone," he said at the station. Marina had been the one to patch him up, casting hungry looks at him the entire time. Jeremy nearly gagged.

"She's pretty obsessed," he replied. "But what about Mrs. Brisby?"

Justin froze at the name, but then did his best not to show his distress. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"I mean, do you ever think about her?" he knew it was a strange question, but he wanted to know. Justin paused long before speaking, staring at the tiled floor. He then shook his head. "No, in fact I've done my best to forget about her."

Jeremy stared at him, then remembered what he had seen. He had secretly followed the Rats when they'd driven her to her new home, and had witnessed everything. Yet he couldn't understand why anyone would want to forget her. "Why?"

Justin shook his head again, but other than that he gave no reply. Jeremy had left a few minutes later, only to run into him again one morning at a café. He didn't have the bandage on his arm, but the wound hadn't healed. He also seemed a bit paler. He'd said he wasn't feeling that great, but there had been more to it than that. Much more. Two months after Ages had called, saying that Justin had been found nearly dead at his house, and that he was now in the hospital. Strangely, Marina had been nowhere in sight when he'd arrived. Jeremy was quick to figure that she wasn't the type to love a sick man, no matter how she'd acted previously. And yet he barely recognized his friend when he'd entered 236B.

Justin was deathly pale, nearly skeletal. His coarse breathing was heavy and labored, as though he'd just run a marathon. His dark brown eyes glittered with fever, and he seemed almost delusional.

"What happened to you?" he could barely form the words. Justin barely glanced in his direction, shifting his left arm. Jeremy noticed the thin, clear cord attached to it, and the small bag it fell from.

"Someone's trying to kill me," he said hotly. His voice was rough, fractured by coughs. Ages could only nod sadly in agreement.

"It's true," he spoke to the teen. "Though we have no way of determining who it's been."

"What about Jenner?" the words came before he could stop them. At seeing the twin looks of shock on their faces, he quickly explained. "Jenner was shoved back in jail after his fight with you, Justin, and the prison he's in just suffered a jail break. He's most likely one of those who escaped, but even if he wasn't he still could have corralled one of the escapees into doing it for him, just so he could be rid of you when he gets out, if he gets out."

"How do you know all of that?" Ages sounded suspicious. Jeremy hesitated, but not for long.

"I followed you guys while you helped Mrs. Brisby, just in case something happened and she had to get out of there. I was gonna bring her home during the fight, but I became just as enthralled with it as everyone else." He thought of adding more, but felt it was wise to keep the information to himself, at least for now. They spent another moment just staring at him, then Justin slowly nodded.

"I wouldn't be surprised if that's how it turns out," he said quietly, then abruptly fell asleep.

Jeremy pulled himself from the thought, gazing about in confusion. It took him a moment to realize where he was, and that he was supposed to be watching the Brisby children. He hadn't even heard the school bus come by, but figured he'd been too deep in his own mind to notice. He'd been one of the first at Justin's side after he was attacked in front of the hospital, and also one of the first to wonder why no one had tried to stop it from happening in the first place, or at least from going to the degree that it did. He thought of going back, but knew that it was too late to do anything; the conspiracy had already started, and now nothing could stop it.

_I'm sorry, Elizabeth, _he thought, and again buried his face in his hands.

(****)

Mrs. Brisby was crying into her pillow, barely making a sound. Ages had offered her the spare room in his home, knowing how broken up she must have been. Like Jeremy, he'd known this would happen, and much of what would come after it. He knew how Justin felt about Elizabeth, why he had asked that she be fetched in the first place, and wondered if the boy would live long enough to tell her. There was a good chance Justin wouldn't reach the next month, but he knew that the man would cling to life now that she was here, and that there was also a good chance he'd survive the poison. But there was no point in dreaming of the future, especially when the present was in such turmoil.

_If Jenner really has gotten out, _he thought, _then there's no telling what danger may come. _He felt cold, fear gripping his heart, and he shivered involuntarily. Jenner Genre was a sociopath, with no regard for human life other than his own, but even that barely seemed to have value. The fact that he used drugs only made it worse, as they clouded the last bits of his mind that were still sane, and left him with almost no recollection of his heinous deeds. He knew there was no point in worrying prematurely, but Ages couldn't help but wonder what the next few months were fated to hold, and who's grave would be the next to be dug.

Elizabeth, however, had just fallen asleep, dreaming again of the day she and Justin had met, and when they'd parted ways. Even now a blush colored her cheeks, but it was for a far different image than what she usually saw. Justin had just finished helping her bring the children inside, and was been about to leave when he heard footsteps behind him. He turned, seeing Elizabeth lounge in the entrance to the hallway. Her damp, muddy clothes had been replaced with a short nightgown, revealing her perfect legs and an arousing bit of chest. She smiled seductively, gliding toward him on silent feet, resting a hand on his suddenly racing heart.

"You're not going to leave yet, are you?" she whispered, almost shyly. He smiled, allowing his arms to slip slowly around her. He could still feel the pain of his wound, but it was little more than a dim throbbing as he pulled her closer, nearly taking her feet from the floor. He felt her eyes dig into his, making him want to drown in their crystal-blue depths, bringing to mind images of what he longed to do to her. He brought his face closer to hers, allowing their breath to mingle a moment before capturing her lips with his. He'd had many girlfriends before, but they'd never made him feel this way, no matter how long they stayed with him. Their kiss slowly deepened as her hands slipped from his chest, her nails running lightly down his back. How he longed to be alone, so that he could claim her as his. They couldn't do it here, for fear of waking her children, or the suspicions of the men who waited outside.

"I have to leave," he hissed to her, feeling passion arouse as she started to moan. He felt his hand barely brush the edge of her breast, the tiny jolt of ecstasy that shot from her body to his, nearly consuming them both.

"I have to leave," he repeated, just a bit louder. She drew her lips away from his neck, looking at him in what seemed confusion.

"Ages knows where you're going," she whispered, and attempted to kiss him again. He didn't pull away, but he didn't respond.

"It's not Ages I'm worried about," he hissed. "It's not any of them,"

"Then who is it?" she asked, sounding impatient, yet wouldn't let go of him.

"It's you," he breathed, after a moment's hesitation. He ran a hand through her tangled dark hair, letting the strands fall through his fingers. "There's a good chance I may never see you again, and I don't want you doing something you may regret later on."

She giggled, pulling his close again. "If that happens, I'll call you," she whispered, then appeared downhearted. She pulled something from the coat she had tossed on the floor. "But if you must go, I insist you take this." He looked down, seeing the ruby stone.

"I can't take that," he whispered. "Jonathan wanted you to have it."

"What could I do with it?" she asked him, then added, "Besides, if I do happen to be questioned, how will they react when they see it?"

"I suppose you're right," he told her. He took it from her hand, then placed it on a small table. He barely glanced at her as he lifted her body in his arms, resulting in shocked a gasp she barely kept silent. They shared one more tender kiss before he hissed something in her ear, telling her of where they would be in the future. "Maybe I'll see you sometime," he whispered, letting her go. He slipped the gem into his pocket, brushing a loose strand of hair from her cheek. She had tears in her lovely, wide eyes, reflecting the sadness that filled his own heart. He didn't want to leave, but knew that he must, in order to keep them all safe. He smiled at her one last time, then vanished into the faint mist of the rainy night. She stood watching until the last of their cars had disappeared, then went silently back to her own room.

She felt her heart race in her chest. Why couldn't their last night really have happened that way? She'd barely known him, in fact most of his life was still a mystery, but she couldn't help the feelings that were growing inside her, recalling that they'd started the moment they met.

"Oh, who are you?" he'd asked, flashing her a charming smile. She remembered blushing furiously, how Mr. Ages had been the one to tell Justin her name, and when he'd told her the conclusion of the mischievous theft that she'd witnessed. Later, she'd been drugged while speaking with Nicodemus, and Justin had been there when she'd woken up, and hadn't cared when she'd thrown up on his boots, but what stuck out the most was the fight between him and Jenner, how he'd nearly been killed. At first, it had been to protect her, but then he'd figured out what Jenner had done with their leader. It was the only time she'd ever seen someone that angry. Jenner was nearly twice his size, and Justin spent most of the fight with a large wound in his shoulder, yet he never appeared to have noticed it; until Ages poured the disinfectant on it.

She laughed a bit, recalling that Cynthia had mimicked him, and how Martin had laughed hysterically while Teresa covered her sister's mouth. Then they'd fallen asleep while Justin drove them to their new home. She had as well, but couldn't remember what she'd dreamt about. Another thing that stuck out to her was the kiss she'd shared with him, how warm his lips had been when pressed against hers. It had been the first bit of romance she'd had since divorcing her husband three years earlier. Her blush deepened, but she shook her head to keep her dreams buried. She didn't want to think about them, least she raise her hopes for what would never come. Still, as she lay back against her pillows she reflected on her first day in Virginia, how it had been nothing but one shock after another, and how her heart had been racing since she'd first stepped in room 236B.


	3. Chapter 3

Finally got this up! It took way longer than I wanted it to, but apparently there was a lot of junk that I wanted to explain.

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><p>His jade eyes burned with fury. He'd given his foe a great deal of poison, but the man was stronger than his master had claimed. He'd been told not to go back until he was sure Justin was dead, and it was beginning to look like it wouldn't happen anytime soon. That secondary attack had been nothing more than a desperate precaution, but even it had failed. Now he was running low on ideas, and the toxin he'd been given to do the job. It was a mix of various drugs, combined in just such a way that they actually prolonged the death of the victim, drawing it out so painfully slowly that most had attempted suicide.<p>

Firstly, it caused the breath to become labored, the heart rate to rapidly increase. Second came the dissolving of muscle tissue, making it impossible for the victim to move on their own, as well as the violent coughing that showed that the lungs were slowly filling with fluid. There was also supposed to be a fourth symptom, but Justin hadn't yet showed it: the rapid decrease of brain cells that soon caused mental retardation. What he didn't know was that his boss had purposefully left that drug out; he wanted Justin to know what was going on around him, down to his last, painful breath.

_This is almost too cruel, _the words came on their own. He wasn't completely devoid of a conscience, but that didn't mean he felt guilty about his work; it just meant he held a small amount of sympathy for the people he killed. But Justin was the exception. He'd hated Justin since they'd met as young children, jealous of his looks, his confidence, and later, his ability to capture the heart of any girl he wanted. It sickened him, the idea that that orphan had always been able to beat him, even if when came to matters concerning money.

_I'll be glad when he's dead. _The pangs of morality didn't last very long, and he let a hard laugh escape his lips as he thought of his enemy, tossing in his bed as pain tore through his nerves, his body growing weaker with each day that passed. But he had no access to the man behind hospital doors, as his boss had specifically forbidden it. He didn't get why, but he never questioned the orders given to him, just as long as the cash kept coming in. He called it "Blood Money", a phrase his grandfather, who'd also been a serial killer, had used for his payments. It was the main source of his vast fortune, the way it also continued to grow.

_I'll make him pay for what he's done to me, _he switched off the light, shutting the large door softly behind him, heading up to his room for the night.

(****)

Teresa lay across the foot of her bed, staring up at the plain white ceiling. It had been two days since her mother left, and she was starting to worry. Jeremy had sworn he'd been telling the truth, but she wondered if Justin had really been poisoned. He hadn't seemed like the kind of man who was easy to fool, but then again she'd met him for all of five minutes when he'd helped them move. In fact most of what she knew of him had come from her mother, who appeared to have been in a daze during most of the telling. That, or what her siblings imagined him as.

"He's not really a thief," Cynthia had said once. She'd been hugging her blanket while waiting for dinner one stormy night. Martin asked what she meant, and the young girl got a glitter in her eye. "He's not a thief," she repeated. "'Cause he's really a super hero. He's goes around helping families in trouble, like he did with us."

Martin laughed, but said she wasn't entirely wrong. He and Timothy believed that Justin was some sort of undercover agent, who was investigating various crime rings, getting inside to shut them down.

"But he's lived with the rats since he was little," said Teresa, recalling what their mother had told them.

"His uncle was one of them," Timothy pointed out.

"So?"

"So, maybe he inherited the job from his uncle. After all, mom said he disappeared at some point, didn't he?"

"She doesn't know what happened to him; Justin never told her that."

They had to admit that she was right. Justin had never revealed the cause of his uncle's disappearance, and they were beginning to wonder if he even knew. But now, after hearing Jeremy's tale, the prospect seemed more likely. _But what does it mean for us? _She felt there was some connection, though she wasn't quite sure what it was. She turned to her side, staring out the window. The sun was just starting to set, a golden orb behind jasper clouds. Her siblings could be heard laughing with Jeremy in the living room; thunder was a distant rumble, cast far back in the hills. There would be rain tonight.

_It seems fitting. _After all, the last few big events of her life had been drenched by storms: the day her father was arrested, the day her mom had divorced him, the night they'd moved from the city, and now this. It seemed to accompany uncertainty, and he found herself wondering why; why had Justin been poisoned, and why hadn't they all been allowed to see him?

_They're probably worried about the effect it may have on us._ That was only part of the reason. Most of it had to do with Justin's sense of pride. He didn't want them to see him, didn't want them to know that he could no longer protect them. He'd had that quality ingrained in him since birth, as his uncle had told him that it wasn't safe for a man to appear weak. It only led to trouble.

_But what if-_ A sudden sound halted her musings. Her siblings had stopped laughing, and now the only voice she could hear was Jeremy's. But it soon cut off. She thought of going out, but something stopped her just short of the door. Instead of exiting, she knelt down and pressed her ear to the wood, unable to believe what she heard.

"What do you want with us?" that was Martin. He sounded angry, but his voice was shaking. She could also hear Cynthia whimpering faintly. There was a sharp sound as something hit the floor.

"Shut up, you brat," someone snapped harshly. The voice was deep, with a grueling undertone of nails on stone.

"Where's our mother?" screamed Timothy. Apparently he didn't fully understand the situation. "What have you done with her?"

"We haven't done anything to her, at least not yet," this voice was different, much smoother than its counterpart. It had a psychotic hiss that was strangely familiar, but she couldn't recall where she had heard it before.

"I want my mommy," yelled Cynthia. "Bring her back!"

The second man laughed, apparently enjoying their torment. "You'll be with her soon enough," he hissed, and three shots echoed through the house. Teresa tried to move from the door, but she paused just long enough to hear his next words. "Load those brats into the car, but leave the black one. I'll search the rest of the house; the boss will kill us if we don't have all of them."

His footsteps pounded on the hardwood floor, growing slowly closer to the room she sheltered in. Teresa thought quickly, diving into a space she'd discovered while playing hide-and-seek with Tim and Cynthia. It was a small spot beside her bed, a hollow in the wall just deep enough for her to crawl in. it extended a fair way behind her dresser, giving her a slim viewpoint into the room beyond. She froze when her door banged open, seeing a pair of filthy old boots depress her plush carpet. She heard the rustle as the man looked her closet, shoving her clothes aside. She pushed herself as far into the space as she could, seeing him kneel beside her bed. He lowered his face to check beneath it, and Teresa's breath stopped in her throat. What she saw was a head of black hair, wavy like her brothers', dark brown eyes that matched Martin's. Yet this man was much bigger than her father, with a scarred hand clasped around the barrel of a small gun. It looked like one she'd seen in a movie, one that shot darts instead of lead bullets. She figured he had used it to sedate her siblings. In a few minutes he openly cursed, rising to his feet and slamming the door hard enough that it fell back open. Teresa shuddered, remaining hidden while he informed his cold-blooded partner.

"The oldest one's not here," he snapped. His partner didn't respond. Seconds later two doors closed outside, and a motor roared into the distance. She stayed in the dark until the echoes had faded, then slipped into the open. The only differences were that her clothes lay in heaps on the floor, and the trail of muddy footprints that stained her white carpet. Least, she hoped it was mud. The tracks led back to the living room, where Jeremy lay unconscious. There was a moderately-sized wound on the side of his head, leaking blood. Her siblings were gone, the only thing left a broken glass bowl. The remaining shards lay scattered in a pool of thick brown goop; apparently they'd tried baking something to help them calm down. She placed a hand on Jeremy's neck. His heart was still beating, though his breath was ragged. She then quickly checked every room in the house, and soon came to the conclusion that they were the only ones left.

Jeremy opened his eyes a few minutes later, just in time to see Teresa hang up the phone. He was surprised the line hadn't been cut. But then again they probably hadn't noticed it, or had been ordered to leave it alone.

"What happened?" he asked, though he very well knew. Teresa could only shake her head, reaching for a damp cloth to wipe the blood from his face.

(****)

Justin wished he could scream, but he could barely breathe. It was hard for him to move, but he knew it had nothing to do with the poison. The land around him had been reduced cinders, yet none of it smelled of fire. Instead it smelled of blood, the life carelessly shed to achieve pointless, twisted desires. He looked around, trapped within a small circle of light; the glow burned him whenever he tried to reach through it.

_Where am I? _He wondered. _What the heck is this place? _He felt cold fear settle in his stomach as someone walked up behind him. He turned, seeing a face he had come to know well. But the expression that twisted his lips was far from familiar.

"Jonathan," his voice was hard, reflecting the look that leaked into his eyes.

"Happy to see me, amigo?" Jon's accent was thick with anger.

"To be truthful," Justin hissed. "I'd thought you'd fallen to hell."

Jon only laughed. "Those traitors got what was coming to them," he snapped. "I would have gotten you too, had Ages not shown up."

Justin crossed his arms over his chest. He glared at the man from his greater height, knowing he was at a disadvantage. He'd been stronger than Jon since he was a teen, but the poison had robbed him of most of his strength; and that wasn't the only problem. Jonathan had lost his wiry build, and was now close to Jenner in size, with a cold glare cast in his brown eyes. He lifted a hand, the flesh heavily scarred, and suddenly the land seemed to vanish around them. Justin watched the earth melt beneath his feet, the burned ground replaced with grey carpet, heavily stained with what appeared to be blood. Screams soon filled the air, centered on the large bed in the far corner of the room.

"No, stop, please stop," the voice tore at Justin's heart. It was his uncle, begging for his life. His wife lay beside him, her dress torn to shreds. She was also screaming to live.

"No one can hear you," the killer taunted them. His face and hands were covered in blood, fingers wrapped tightly around a cold blade. A single red drop fell from the tip, splashing on the face of a baby boy, Justin's young cousin.

Alex was already dead, his grey eyes staring blankly at the hooded figure, while Justin looked on from his hiding spot beneath the bed. He had been there, playing a game with his surrogate father, when Jon had come in asking for help. He'd said his son had run off, and that he had no idea where to find him. Ryan and Beth had agreed to help, only to have the request thrown in their faces when he shoved a knife through Alexander's chest. He then forced them both to the floor, making slow, deliberate demands in Spanish, which Justin nearly struggled to comprehend.

"If you make one sound, I won't hesitate to kill you, and that goes for your little nephew as well."

"Whatever you want," Ryan begged. He told the man where the safe was, Beth's jewelry, anything that would satisfy the man, but apparently greed wasn't the motive for this senseless attack. They were unprepared for when he began stabbing, blood streaking the walls, spotting the carpet with each move of the blade. Young Justin silently sobbed in his hiding place, watching as they begged for their lives, but their pleas fell on deaf ears.

He stabbed them each once through the heart, panting heavily as he looked around for his last victim. He had just turned to the bed when the doorknob rattled. He looked around for a quick escape, and finally leapt through the open window. He ducked into the shadows cast by the trees, listening as Ages entered the room, Justin crying as he emerged from his hiding spot. He told the man everything, collapsing on his chest as guilt and fear overtook him. Jonathan cursed under his breath, dropping his blade in the dust. He'd been wearing gloves, so there would be no fingerprints. He then dashed into the forest.

The crying grew louder, echoing cruelly in his ears, becoming a piercing wail. Every terror of his past played before his eyes, the images coming closer and closer, until he felt they would collapse on top of him. Again he tried screaming, but nothing came until he opened his eyes.

The nightmare was gone, replaced by the walls of room 236B. His panting breath was the only sound as he rose from his bed, gazing about with eyes widened by fear. There was nothing save the tiled floor, the small window looking out into the streets below. It was open, letting in the cool breeze of mid-fall, strands of moonlight drifting past the thin curtains. He wished he could stand, but it pained him just to move in the bed. He wondered how long he had, and quickly began thinking of Elizabeth.

He loved her. He couldn't deny it any longer. His feelings for her had started when Jon had shown them a picture of her. She'd been two months pregnant. His heart raced, recalling how lovely she was, how the very mention of her name was enough to make his face heat. He'd hidden it well the day they had met, she hadn't suspected anything, but he'd let his cover slip when he kissed her. He'd just barely resisted the urge to embrace her, but after he left he'd begun cursing himself.

_She's Jonny's wife, _he told himself savagely. _I have no right to touch her. _Yet he somehow felt that he had broken no rules, recalling what she'd said when he asked. _"Yes, I was his wife." _Was. She had been his wife, but apparently they'd gotten divorced. He couldn't blame her. Jonathan had cut off all forms of communication, with her and his friends, and would be in jail for another twenty years. It was almost as though he wanted to forget who he was, what mistakes he had made in his life. He hadn't wanted his children to know he was a criminal, but now they all knew, and now he'd cut himself off completely from them.

_He was always a bit selfish. _That was an understatement, and also not all. Jon was stubborn, and most of the time was unwilling to listen to any sort of compromise. He hadn't changed much after his marriage, except he wasn't as willing to drug the security guards they'd had to deal with back in the city. Yet when they'd told him to stop and go back to his family, he had steadfastly refused. It was almost as though he'd wanted to be recaptured, just so he could escape from his life, but it hadn't worked until after his youngest was born. He remembered the man saying his wife was in the hospital, and had been caught by Dragon that very night. Only later did they discover that he had another little girl, one he wouldn't meet until she was nearly thirty.

_I shouldn't let it get to me._ The prison term was too short, in his opinion, after all he had done. But there had been no evidence linking him to the murders, and the only witness had been a sobbing eight-year-old boy. Not that anybody believed what he'd had to say. They hadn't even examined the bodies before burying them, which told him that they didn't want to believe that their hero was also a killer.

Justin buried his face in his hands, feeling fear drift up his spine. He hadn't felt this way in years, but now it all came crashing down. The toxins didn't mess with his mind directly, but the constant strain his body was under was causing the wall around his heart to collapse, allowing the release of emotions he'd kept inside for years. He felt tears start to slip down his cheeks, thankful that no one could see him.


	4. Chapter 4

He was awakened by a door coming open. It was quiet, but he could feel tension knot the air. He opened his eyes, turning to see Ages enter, Elizabeth close by his side.

"Elizabeth…" he whispered, seeing the tears in her eyes. He rose, lifted his arms. She practically fell in his embrace.

"Oh, Justin," she sobbed. She clung to the cloth that covered his chest. "Justin…I…the children…its terrible…"

Justin placed a hand on her lips. He gazed in her eyes, silently begging her to calm. "It's all right, Elizabeth," he whispered to her. He rubbed her cheek softly with his thumb. "Just tell me what happened."

"It…It's the children," she managed. Tears still welled in her eyes. "Jeremy called last night saying most of them had been kidnapped. He and Teresa are the only ones left…" she sobbed again. Justin held her close. He looked to Ages, looking confused.

"I'm afraid she's telling the truth," the old man replied. He quickly explained what Teresa had told him, not leaving anything out. Justin thought a moment, Elizabeth still clasped in his arms.

"It's out of my jurisdiction," he spoke regrettably. She just looked at him. "It happened in another state, so unless the department can prove they came here, I'm afraid there's nothing I can do."

Elizabeth pulled herself from him, face void of emotion. She'd been so confused with her feelings about him she'd forgotten where he was, and where her children were.

"Teresa contacted the force there," Ages said quickly. "And between the two of them they were able to give a solid description of the kidnappers." He reached in to that old sack he always carried, pulling out a slim file. He opened it, bringing out some composite drawings. Justin's eyes widened in shock. There were two men. The first was one he'd never seen before, but the other he'd done his best to forget. It was Jonathan, but the man had greatly changed.

His fine features were twisted with fury, a long scar running down the left side of his face. His slim lips were curved in a sneer, showing a chipped tooth. His dark hair was curlier than ever, falling to his shoulders. Justin's hand began to shake, but not just with fear. Anger begged for dominance in his heart, but he refused to give in. After all, this wasn't about him, it never had been; what was important was finding the children as quickly as possible. He just hoped they weren't already out of time.

Teresa arrived later that night. Jeremy had driven her, but had disappeared soon after. They figured he'd gone to see Ages, to discuss what connection this could have in relation to Justin's poisoning. They figured there had to be at least one. They were made sure of it when Justin recognized something else about Jonathan's "portrait". It was his eyes. He remembered the second attack outside the hospital, how the eyes had been the criminal's only visible feature. They'd held the same, empty glare Jon's eyes now did and, now that he thought of it, the perpetrator had worn a familiar cologne, almost identical to Jon's. But he couldn't quite remember the name.

"Justin?"

The small voice snapped him back to reality. He looked around, seeing Elizabeth's hand clasped in his own. He could feel the tension flowing through her, the cold sweat that dampened her palm. He backed up to the wall, resting his lower back against his stained pillow. It had been the only witness to his midnight breakdown, and he intended to keep it that way. Teresa was curled up in a chair on the opposite side of the room, nearly asleep. She had an old leather jacket draped across her, presumably left there by Jeremy. Elizabeth was growing nearer to sleep, her eyes becoming glazed as they drifted to the window. There was only one other bed in his room, and he knew that the teen wasn't coming back. He had the feeling this bit was planned, but decided to deal with them later. Right now he had Elizabeth to worry about.

A small touch was all it took. She opened her eyes the minute his hand touched her hair. But she didn't seem to be able to focus on him. He smiled, hoping she wasn't so exhausted she couldn't walk a short distance. He slowly pulled the sheets from his legs, which were as thin and pale as the rest of him. They were also covered in scars. He stepped from the bed for the first time in days, shocked he could still stand. He let his arm rest on her back, leading her to the other bed, which still had its covers folded back. He all but lifted her into it, but she didn't fall asleep right away.

"Justin," she whispered. It was so quiet he had to kneel down to hear her.

"Yes, Elizabeth?" he asked.

"How do you know my first name?" she asked. "I don't recall ever telling you."

He smiled again, brushing some hair from her face. "Ages told me," he whispered, and kissed her lightly on the cheek. "Good night."

(****)

He was released later that week, nearly embarrassed about his appearance. In the past few months the only sunlight he'd gotten had been through his room window, meaning his skin had lost some of its natural tan. They'd told him to stay inside, to take it easy until they were sure he was alright, but he refused, saying he'd already spent enough time inside. Still, whenever he did go outside, he made sure people wouldn't recognize him at a glance.

He lost the dreadlocks he'd had since a teen, getting his thick hair cropped around his ears. He also went without his beige hat, knowing it was a dead giveaway. He also made sure to keep his eyes covered, wearing dark sunglasses wherever he went. Lastly, he kept himself clean-shaven, even though he hated the feeling.

Elizabeth hardly knew him the first time he came out, and had made a joke that she'd liked his appearance better before. He'd laughed, saying he would go back when this was all over, though it would be a bit before his hair grew. Though throughout all of this he never forgot his main objectives: find out who wanted him dead, and figuring out a plan to be rid of them. He knew it sounded selfish, but made them remember that whoever had poisoned him, they were either the same person who took Elizabeth's children, or they both worked for the man who wanted him dead.

"But what if they still catch you?" she questioned. They'd gone out to enjoy an evening alone, having dinner then taking a nice walk through the park. Though at first she'd disagreed, both Ages and Jeremy insisted she was over-stressing herself, and that she needed to calm down. She had resisted, until Justin put his arm around her. She'd then mumbled her agreement while blushing furiously.

"I grew up with criminals," he replied. He wove his fingers through her cold ones. "They'd have trouble keeping me locked up."

She giggled. "I'm serious," she said, coming to a stop. They were on a deserted path at the edge of the park, standing beneath an oak tree. Some of its wide, colored leaves had already fallen, creating dappled patterns with the moon's light. Justin stopped as well, turning to face her. He held her hands firmly in his.

"I know you're frightened," he said quietly, and sighed heavily. "I have to admit that I am as well."

"You, frightened?" she asked in disbelief. He chuckled.

"It's not very often, but yes, it does happen," then his smile vanished. "I was beginning to fear I would never see you again, or that I wouldn't recall you if I did."

She gazed at him a moment, feeling his thumb brush her cheek. "I know that tragedy brought us together," she explained. "But I'm overjoyed to see you again, to…"

"What is it?"

She laughed shyly, shaking her head as she stared at the ground. "It's nothing," she replied. He grinned knowingly, cupping her face gently in his hands. There was a soft glitter in her eyes that he wanted to remember, a sweet scent in her hair that he wanted to carry forever.

"You're lovely in moonlight," he whispered, and brought his face closer. He paused, and then kissed her passionately. In seconds his tongue had pushed past her lips, tasting her from the inside. She shivered, wrapping her arms tightly around him. She knew they'd both been waiting for this moment, but for how long she couldn't guess. Her feelings for Justin had evolved over time, created by countless hours of daydreams about their future meetings. She had no idea he'd already been in love when they'd met, that Jonathan's description had been more than enough to capture his heart. But then he'd seen her smiling face in a photograph, and he'd been captured heart and soul.

"I love you, Elizabeth," he wanted to whisper, but couldn't tear his lips from hers.


	5. Chapter 5

He was back to normal by mid-October, but still insisted on keeping his new appearance. He wanted his foes dead before he changed back, so they would never have to worry again. No one knew about the kiss he'd shared with Elizabeth, or that he planned to take her out again soon. Ages and Jeremy had made it their job to search for the children when he wasn't around, though he almost always was.

"Are you sure this is safe?" Jeremy asked him one day. Justin looked up from what he was doing, hand frozen in midair.

"What do you mean?" he asked. Jeremy shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I don't know, but don't you think they'll try to get her too? If they see you hanging with her?"

Justin's fist tightened. "They'd have to kill me to get anywhere near her," he said. He gave a hard grin. "But I don't think they want me dead just yet."

"What do you mean?"

Justin set his things down, but didn't stand up. Instead he clasped his hands around one knee. "I'm still not quite sure why they want me dead," he admitted. "But I have the feeling that I'm still important to them. They're going to keep me alive, if just barely, until I cease in being useful to them."

"But do you even know what they want you to do?"

Justin shook his head. "No idea; but the longer it takes me to find out, the longer they'll want to keep me alive,"- Jeremy nodded in agreement.- "So if I bide my time long enough, I should be able to find someway to undermine their plan, whatever it may be."

Jeremy nodded again, sitting in silence. He knew there was a flaw in Justin's logic, but couldn't quite grasp what it was. A question soon formed on the tip of his tongue, but when he looked up, Justin was already gone.

(****)

Elizabeth giggled, trying in vain to free herself. The weather lately had been abnormally warm, and Justin had decided to take full advantage of it. He'd taken her to a spot in the woods near his house, leading her to a large pond surrounded by fall-blooming plants. He plucked a single flower from a small shrub, entwining the stem with her hair. But just before that he'd had her trapped in his arms as his hands drifted across her, but she knew he wasn't apologizing with the soft purple bloom; after all, she'd enjoyed it just as much as he had.

They spent some time swimming, watching the tiny fish as they darted through the clear water, trying to enjoy this small window of peace. They tired of it after an hour, lying on the grassy bank to dry in the sun. Justin was on his back, hands folded behind his head. Elizabeth was partially on top of him, supporting herself on his arm with her head on his shoulder. She suddenly laughed, remembering something.

"I had a birthday a few months ago," she told him. She ran a nail down his finely muscled chest.

"So that would make you…" he stopped.

"Twenty-six," she giggled again. Justin did his best not to show his shock.

"But Teresa's already…"

"I know," she laughed. "I was in my thirties until last May," she explained. "When I was asked to test a product that reversed skin damage, but that wasn't all it did," she paused, but he didn't react. "It actually _reversed _the ages of the participants, to the point where some of them almost became teenagers again."

"Now how could they accomplish something like that?" he wondered. She shrugged.

"I don't know, but it actually caused me to be twenty-four again. My birthday came just days after the test, and then there was the one I had a few months ago."

Justin considered this. It sounded like a science fiction story, but he had to believe her when she said that other people had had the same effect. But what had caused it?

"I still have some of the product left," she explained. "I could become even younger, if I wanted to."

He smiled, pulling her fully on top of him. "You're fine how you are," he said quietly. Then he kissed her.

(****)

"That son of a bitch," Shadow's killers lay in wait around the clearing, the larger of the pair seething with anger. Justin had been right. His old "pal" Jonathan was one of the men who wanted him dead, but he was just a pawn in a much larger game. He gripped the barrel of his rifle, trying to resist the desire to shoot. He no longer cared about his ex-wife, but he didn't want her dead. After all, she still had his children to raise, and there was no way he was going to take on the duty himself. "I should have known this would happen."

His accomplice was preoccupied, staring at the lovely girl in Justin's arms. His heart suddenly raced with unsatisfied lust. They weren't entirely sure what their master's plan was, but it involved them every few days, to take care of another obstacle.

"I'm going to kill him," Jonathan hefted the gun from his shoulder, placing the barrel on the fallen log they crouched behind, aiming the crosshairs of his scope directly at Justin's head. He was about to pull the trigger when Justin looked their way, appearing to glare right at them. In a few minutes he stood, hand drifting toward a pile of cloth he had resting on the ground.

There was no sound when the shot was fired, only a flood of movement from his target. He knew at once the bullet had missed, and cursed under his breath.

"Damn it," he lined up for another shot, only to find that they were gone. Confused, he swept the perimeter with his scope, only to feel cold metal on the back of his neck.

"You haven't changed," a smooth voice hissed harshly. There was no time to turn before the blow came, knocking him out cold.

(****)

Justin knew they were being watched, but did his best not to show it. He kept catching glimmers of light from the south woods, the direction of an old service road that was no longer used. His suspicions were heightened when he heard Jonathan's voice, releasing an angry curse. In a second he turned to Elizabeth, hissing to her to get down, just seconds before the first shot whizzed by. The bullet missed his head by a fraction of an inch, instead becoming lodged in the trunk of an old tree. He heard the muttered movements of the shooter, and quickly pulled a knife from his coat. The six inch steel blade had been sharpened to perfection the night before, and he longed to see if his skills were just as sharp.

He pushed Elizabeth into the shadows, dashing silently to the southern edge. By the time Jon was able to look back in his scope, Justin was already standing behind him. He pressed the blade to the back of Jon's neck, and issued his whispered warning. Finally, he'd used the handle to knock the man unconscious. Justin had then turned to his accomplice, glaring down at the plump, tiny man.

"Who are you working for?" he asked. The small man was shaking, but kept his mouth shut. Justin grabbed a fistful of his shirt, shoving him up against the harsh wood of a pine. The knife he held against the man's throat. "Who are you working for?" he repeated, voice low. "Who put you up to this?"

"H-He didn't say his name," the midget said shakily. "W-We haven't even seen his face." He paused, licking his lips as he glanced at the knife. "H-He calls himself Shadow. That's all I know."

Justin thought a moment, then dropped him back to the ground. Seconds later he'd disappeared, leaving a line of blood on Jon's skull as a warning. Hearing his steps in the clearing, Elizabeth emerged from her hiding place.

"What was that?" she asked.

He thought of lying to her, knowing he couldn't afford any mistakes, but then realized that the wrong words would result in his losing her. He sighed heavily, barely gazing at her as he explained who it was, and about the mysterious man known as Shadow. Elizabeth didn't speak when he was done, feeling shocked and dismayed. Jonathan had never been abusive, toward her or the children, and he'd never cheated on her, but she did remember one problem they'd had: his obsession with going to strip clubs.

"I lost track of how often he went," she said at last. She went on to explain how he'd been gone nearly every night, most often not returning home until dawn. She wasn't sure what else he'd done after he left, but guessed it was more than just watching topless women. She started to get the feeling that he had gotten a bed with one of those girls, if not more, and the thought cut her to the quick.

"I thought he loved me," she sighed. Justin knelt down beside her, taking her face in his hand.

"He loved you more than you know," he told her. "He was just used to a wild life; he was having trouble letting it go."

"What else did he do?" she asked. Her eyes were suddenly hard. "What else did he do behind my back?"

Justin hesitated, then slowly shook his head. "It'll be revealed in time," he hissed, then turned his head to the south woods.

(****)

The roar of gunfire deafened him, echoing his pounding heart. The situation only worked to worry him further. The man known as Shadow shot only when he was angry, and his subordinates had long ago learned to fear him. He was unstable, his actions unpredictable. His frightened killer remained in the gloom until the gun clicked empty; only then did he step into the line of sight. He barely had time to clear his throat before his master spoke.

"Has the obstacle been eliminated?" Shadow's voice was smooth as silk and colder than ice, perfect for bringing people beneath his control. His ruthless punishments made it so that no one had the courage to leave.

"I-I am afraid not, sir," the killer said nervously. He winced as the firearm clattered loudly to the ground. Shadow turned his frozen green eyes to the smaller man, barely resisting the urge to throw his subordinate against the cold cement wall. He visibly forced himself to calm, reserving his rage for the one who really deserved it; the one who had thrown him back in jail.

"What circumstances prevented his execution?"

"H-He was with a woman, sir," said the smaller man feebly. "And he no longer appears to be affected by the poisons."

"That is irrelevant," Shadow snapped angrily. He swept a large bag off a table, the noises it made on impact with the floor told of the weapons he had at his disposal. "What I want to know is…why was he not killed?"

"He knew exactly where we were stationed," said a third voice. It was similar to Shadow's, a viable hiss in its tone that spoke of pure fury. "He ambushed us, and he nearly killed me." Jonathan stepped from the shadows, a bandage wrapped around his head. A slim line of blood was visible of the left side, where Justin had cut him. "It's going to take more than simple tactics to stop him," the man stepped closer, fist tight at his side. "He knows every strategy, every move we could possibly make." Again he stepped forward, bowing at the waist, bowing to Shadow. "I know every one of his faults, and his biggest weakness would have to be my ex-wife, Elizabeth, the one he nearly died to protect not too long ago."

Shadow remembered well, recalling Justin's rage when she'd been attacked, knowing the depths of his feelings for her. "We have most of my children in custody," Jon continued coldly. "However, my oldest was able to escape, and no doubt she has already informed them both."

"She is of no importance," Shadow spoke off-handedly. "Though in time she may need to be dealt with."

The shorter killer looked up in shock. Killing children? He knew Shadow to be an efficient assassin, but had never thought him heartless enough to take the life of a child; regardless of what threat they posed.

"You seem upset," Shadow's voice was now sweet, a perfectly false front. But Andrew fell for it.

"Must the girl lose her life?" there was genuine pain in his voice. Shadow simply nodded to Jonathan, and in seconds Andrew's arm erupted in blood. He screamed, holding the useless limb close to his chest, cradling it with his good hand. Clasped in Jonathan's scarred fist was a smoking gun, his lips curled in a haunting grin.

"Maybe next time you'll think twice before growing a conscience," he hissed, then stepped back into the shadows. Shadow simply turned his back, leaving Andrew to care for his wound.


	6. Chapter 6

"Um, do you have a problem?"

Teresa looked up from the book she'd been reading, seeing a group of girls dressed in expensive clothes. "I do now," she said flatly.

The girl in front laughed, obviously the leader. She leveled cold eyes at Teresa. "We rule this school," she said hotly. "And no one crosses us."

Teresa gazed slowly around the crowded cafeteria. She sat alone at a large table near the front doors. Boys and girls of various ages stood watching them, shocked that anyone would up against Chelsea and her friends. "I've crossed you?" she asked.

"You're sitting at our table," snapped Chelsea. She placed her hand flat upon it. Her skin was very pale, nails painted bubble-gum pink. "No one else is allowed to sit here unless I invite them."

Teresa gazed at the table, shrugging. "I'm sorry, but unless your names are inscribed in gold on these chairs, I'm afraid you don't own them."

A few people laughed, and it soon began to spread throughout the room. Chelsea screamed at them to stop, but soon even her friends were giggling. She screamed again, glaring hotly at Teresa, who just smiled innocently, waving toward the door. A few minutes later that same door slammed shut. The laughter then slowly died down, but not everyone forgot her so easily; one boy, a junior, sat down beside her after getting his lunch.

"Hey," he said, smiling. She glanced at him, and instantly blushed.

"Hey," she said quietly. She felt his eyes drifting across her, but no embarrassment. In fact, she soon found herself doing the same. His straight blond hair fell to his shoulders, bangs nearly hiding his placid green eyes. His teeth gleamed white against his tan, his red and white jacket telling her he was part of the football team. She barely noticed when his hand slipped closer, his strong fingers wrapped warmly around hers.

"You're new here, right?" he asked, almost dreamily.

"Not…exactly," she admitted, in the same tone. She giggled. "I'm not even enrolled."

He smiled again, hearing the bell. "I don't have any classes after lunch," he told her, then moved closer. "You feel like splitting?"

She nodded, watching as he tossed their leftovers into the trash, packing her own things. "I just have to get some junk from my locker," he said a few minutes later. They were in the hallway outside a science classroom, and several girls seemed to glare at her in jealousy. Another bell rang, he slammed the locker shut. "I'm Arron, by the way," he said carelessly.

"I'm Teresa," she replied, then recalled the scene earlier in the lunch room. "Who was that?"

"That was Chelsea," he told her. The casual tone had all but vanished from his voice. "She thinks she rules the school."

"Why?"

Arron shoved the door open, pulling a set of keys from his pocket. "Hell if I know," he said. "She's my cousin, and my aunt's spoiled her rotten."

"I'd agree with that," Teresa told him. Arron brought her to a white Mercedes, opening the passenger-side door.

"After you," he said jokingly. She laughed, setting her bag between her feet.

"Thanks. How old are you?"

He shrugged again, starting the engine. "I'm sixteen; you?"

"I'm fifteen," she said. "My birthday's next month."

He was quiet a bit, focusing on the road ahead. It was nearly vacant, as were most of the parking lots. He eventually stopped outside the arcade, and cut off the engine. But he didn't get out right away. He leaned back against the door, staring at her from beneath his long bangs. "You didn't come here willingly," he said suddenly. She just looked at him. "You kept glancing around outside the school," he went on. "And you've been looking back every few blocks, as if to make sure we're not being followed. You're not a runaway," he added further, then paused. "Come to think of it, there was something on the news a few days ago, about how some children had been kidnapped in North Carolina. You bear some resemblance to them; you're not related to them, are you?"

She still stared at him; it was all she could think to do. By simply just looking at her, noticing her unconscious actions, he had revealed her real reason for being here in Virginia, and also that she was looking for someone.

"They're my siblings," she said at last. She then told him everything, starting with when her father had first been arrested, going on about her family's hectic move, ending the account with her arrival in town. Nearly a half hour passed during the telling, and she was nearly in tears when she finished. Arron was silent, as if digesting the information, then pushed himself up using his shoulder.

"I'm sorry this has happened to you," he said. "But maybe I can help."

"How?" she sniffed. He smiled.

"I'm not sure if you've noticed it yet, but the majority of our police force is working to find those kids. They believe the kidnappers are the same people who poisoned one of our officers."

"Justin was in the hospital because of poison," she realized. "Does that mean he's…" she shook her head. "You say 'our'; are you part of the force?"

He laughed. "Not really," he admitted. "But I've been helping them out since I was little, so…" he shrugged. She smiled, then turned to the blue-painted building in front of them. The frosted glass doors were pulled aside, and laughter could be heard. Punk-ish looking boys in leather jackets stood at some of the games, cursing when they lost, yet most of them seem centered around a table in the far corner, carved of dark wood.

"They have pool?" she asked, hiding what she felt. Arron just laughed.

"Hey, chica," the boys leered at her when she entered, one pulling off his sunglasses. His eyes were a deep brown, reminding her of a man she had come to fear. Arron cast a cold glance around the room, quickly silencing them. They knew then that Teresa was with him, and that none of them could lay a hand on her. After that had been established, she felt safe enough to venture to the pool table; they had just started a game.

"May I have a shot?" she asked.

"Sure," one of the younger boys handed her his cue stick, stepping back. Teresa bent over the edge of the table, aiming for the white ball. A dozen clicks later, and every striped ball had been sunk. She blushed as the boys stared at her, handing the stick to the one who'd given it to her.

"Where'd you learn to do that?" he asked. She laughed.

"My dad took me to a lot of pool halls when I was little," was all she said.

(****)

"Justin, Justin!" Jeremy burst through the doors of the station, blood dripping from the side of his head. His shirt and jacket were torn to shreds, red staining his shoulder. His breath was ragged, hair stuck to his forehead in sweaty strands. His bright eyes were wild with fear. "Justin!"

The back door came open, revealing a shirtless man, bandages wrapped around his waist. A taller man came up behind him, and nearly shoved him aside. "Jeremy," he said, voice tinged with worry. He gripped the boy by the shoulders, trying to get him to focus. "Jeremy," he repeated. "What happened to you?"

"Justin," Jeremy's breath was still heavy, but slowly calming down. "I…I think I've…found something out…"

Justin led him to the back, ushering him into a chair. Marina set to work removing his clothes, eyes widening when she saw the extent of his wounds. They still bled, but it seemed to be slowing. He turned to his friend, nearly shaking.

"I…I saw them," he gulped. "The men who kidnapped Martin and the others; they were dismembering a man in the woods. I could hear him screaming…and I ran for my life. They didn't cause all this," he motioned to his chest. "I…" he trailed off, not sure how to explain. He didn't need to.

"I'll take care of them later," Justin said to himself. He sat down, running a hand through his hair. The city used to be safe, but ever since that jail break things had been different. Most of those criminals had come here to live beneath the radar, spending their lives doing the only thing they knew how to: walking the streets in search of victims, ready to fight. Then he remembered something. "What did they look like?"

Jeremy stared at him, then recalled the prisoners. "They were out in the east woods," he explained. "After they finished with him, they said they were gonna go to Howe's Tavern; tonight."

Justin nodded, then got a mischievous glint in his eye. "This may just work out…"

(****)

"Mom?" Teresa shut the front door, glancing at the empty front rooms. It was nearly seven, two hours before her curfew. Arron had dropped her off, after taking her to an evening screening of _The Crimson Code_, a film that kept her frightened enough to cling to him; she had a feeling he'd planned it that way. It hadn't been all bad, until one of his friends got an idea. They'd barely been able to save the fight for outside, where a few witnesses had nearly called the police.

"Mom?" she called again. She walked to the kitchen, grabbing a can of soda from the fridge. There was a note taped to the door. It took her two seconds to scan it, getting the idea that her mother had gone out to help with the investigation. She wouldn't be back until late.

"Oh, well," she shrugged, going back to the living room. She didn't feel like watching TV, so pulled a book from a case in the corner. She hadn't thought of Justin as much of a reader, but figured he didn't have enough free time for much else. The book didn't have a title, and had a brown leather cover. The only bit of color was a few gold stripes on the binding. The pages were stained yellow.

_This is odd; _it didn't start like she thought it would, the first page a list of scribbles she guessed to be names, the second a similar mess. The third it got interesting, when she saw Justin's name stamped onto the page. There were other things too, but she couldn't understand them. But she figured she should put it back after that, as it seemed to be some sort of journal, but curiosity got the better of her. She kept going, finding hidden pockets scattered throughout; most were empty, but a few held letters or scraps of other things: bullet casings, sprigs of plants, and lastly bits of fabric. Some were clean, but most were spattered with brown stains. A closer look, or rather smell, revealed them to be spots of old blood.

_Oh my God;_ the last pages were the worst, mainly because they weren't pages at all. They were more pockets, containing blurred photos and descriptions of various men. What made it more frightening was the fact that she recognized most of them, having seen them on the news; dead by "mysterious circumstances". She nearly screamed, dropping the book as though it burned. So _that's_ what Justin really did. He was a serial killer, paid well to keep quiet. And now her mom was falling in love with him, meaning they were both in danger.


	7. Chapter 7

Elizabeth looked around, beginning to wonder why she was there. A few officers had said they needed her help, asking her to come with them to Howe's Tavern, dressed in the most revealing clothes she had. She now sat at the bar in a very short dress, dyed red, with an off-shoulder neck line that showed much of her chest. She had calf-high red boots encasing her slim legs. One of the female officers had offered to do her make-up, making her almost unable to recognize her reflection.

_But why ask me here? _She shook her head, tapping her long nails on the bar, digging into her purse for her cell phone. It was nearly nine-thirty, meaning Teresa would be at Justin's house alone. That wasn't what worried her, but she forced her mind off the subject. The kidnappers didn't know where they were now, so there was nothing to worry about.

"Hey baby," a smooth voice sent chills down her spine, a large hand drifting down her side. "Can I buy you a drink?"

"Oh, no thank you," Elizabeth turned away, attempting to slide off her stool. The man kept her back, gripping her arm.

"Come on," he insisted. His lips curled as his blue eyes drifted across her. She recognized that expression all too well. "I could make you feel real nice…"

"Could you please let me go?" she asked sweetly. She gave a demure smile. "I need to find my boyfriend and…"

"Forget about him," the blond man said suavely. He pulled her closer. "I could give you heaven."

Her grin faded. "Look buddy," she said, gripping his wrist. She twisted his flesh, nails drawing blood. "I said no."

In a minute he released her, not bothering to chase after her. He instead turned to the girl on his right. "Hey baby…"

(****)

Elizabeth sighed, leaning against the wall. She stared out the glass doors of the entrance. Why had those officers asked her here, and why had they made her dress like this? She pulled a powder compact from her purse, looking into the tiny mirror. Her scarlet lips were pulled in a frown, eyes bluer than ever beneath black mascara. Her subtle gold eye shadow matched her jewellery perfectly. She'd had to go back to her house to gather some clothes for Teresa, and had packed some more for herself, including the swimsuit she'd worn when Justin took her to the pond. She had also taken her more valuable objects, not wanting them to be vulnerable to a break-in. She'd come back to find Justin asleep on the couch, surrounded by case files.

She giggled, recalling the day. It was the second time she'd ever seen him asleep, but had been quick to notice that his shirt was spattered with sweat, as though he'd done something else not long before. She was about to put the compact away when she caught something. It was a reflection of the stage behind her, where a band supplied live music for the club. She noticed the music was different, having a different beat than anything before it. The DJ was also scratching the records.

Elizabeth couldn't really understand what he was saying, with all the other noise, but she got the message when a young man came on the stage. He was dressed in torn jeans and a long shirt, throwing the brim of his hat sideways as he started rapping. But it was in Spanish. A few people in the crowd began to back away, as though they understood the truth of the words. It just sounded like a regular song to her, until the he reached up to remove his dark glasses, and switched suddenly to English. "And though I hate to say it, you've just been caught."

The crooks made a run for it, knocking various people aside in their rush to escape. The cops moved quickly, but stopped at a frightened scream from the front entrance. It was Elizabeth. The blond man who'd flirted with her now had his arm wrapped around her neck, and was holding a gun to her head. Justin stepped closer, only to hear the weapon cock.

"One step closer, she dies," the blond man said darkly. He glared straight into Justin's dark eyes, backing out with Elizabeth. The jacket they had wrapped around her mouth muffled her cries for help. Tears poured down her face as she was dragged away, but her fear didn't stop her from fighting. The crook's arm was still bleeding from their previous confrontation, but her hands had been bound so it wouldn't happen again. She clasped her hands together, shoving them into her captor. The blow landed in his stomach, knocking the wind out of him. He let go long enough for the jacket to fall from her lips. She pivoted, smashing her elbow into his face. He was stunned, unable to stop her as she rushed into the crowd.

"Justin!" she was still crying, falling in his arms. He drew his knife, cutting the cloth from her wrists. She clung to him, watching as Seth straightened, aiming his gun through the crowd. He fired, the bullet ricocheting off Justin's blade, landing in the wall. The crowd had fallen behind various tables, trying to protect themselves in any way that they could. Justin shoved his girlfriend aside, and into the arms of another officer, just as the gun was fired again. It kept firing, missing the people by inches, until it finally clicked empty. Justin somehow knew that was the only clip that he had. He smiled, knowing the outcome.

Seth growled, realizing he shouldn't have been drinking. He was the only one on his team who had a gun, and he'd just emptied his only clip. He tossed the gun aside, surging forward. Justin was smaller than he was, so he expected an easy victory. But he wasn't prepared for his target to fight back. Justin easily dodged his wild blow, ducking beneath his fist, swinging his leg so his heel connected with Seth's diaphragm. He then kicked him in the throat, and in seconds the man was lying dazed on the floor. By then his accomplices had already been cuffed, and were being led to the vans that waited outside. He soon followed them. Justin turned to Elizabeth, taking her hand, bringing her close.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," he whispered. She smiled, resting her head on his chest.

"That's alright," she said quietly. She lifted her face to look at him. He smiled, brushing the hair from her cheek. The other patrons crowding the club had set about straightening up, giving them barely a glance. She felt her face warm as his arms slipped slowly around her, watched her hands as they drifted from his chest, resting on his shoulders. She couldn't tear her eyes from his, and was unable to move as he came closer, resting his lips softly on hers. She sighed, responding eagerly.

(****)

Teresa was asleep on the couch, the only sound in the house that of the clock ticking in the hall. Elizabeth dropped her purse by the door, kneeling to take off her boots. Justin did little more than watch her, feeling a strange urge flood his veins. It was one he faintly recognized, having felt it once before. He waited until Elizabeth was back on her feet, stepping slowly forward. His strong hands were gentle as they embraced her from behind, pulled her up against his chest. He tilted her chin, pressing his mouth to hers. Her lips slowly opened, body begging for his warmth. His hand soon drifted to the tie of her dress, undoing the threads as he all but carried her to the back of his house.

The lock clicked, but she didn't feel trapped. He swiftly drew the silken blinds, dyeing the moon's rays a bluish-green; it was their only source of light. He stared at Elizabeth, heart pounding with emotion, his lips unable to form the sacred words. She slowly came closer, undoing the top clasp of his shirt, allowing her dress to fall from her shoulders.

"Justin," she whispered. Her breathing was already heavy, beads of sweat forming on her brow from the musky heat that filled the room. She pushed the cloth of his shirt aside, running her nails lightly down the muscles of his back; he nearly shuddered with ecstasy.

"Justin," her voice was a hiss, nearly drowned by the blood that roared in his ears. She pulled him back, slowly, to the bed, gripping his collar as he crawled on top of her. He finished taking the dress from her body, allowing himself to slip free of his clothes. Their kisses were feverish, passion erupting as they cemented their feelings. A diamond drop spilled from her eye, barely reflected by the dim light, fully ignored as he slowly, tenderly began to enter her body, bringing forth gasps that shuddered with pleasure. She wrapped her legs around his waist, arching her head as his lips kissed her neck. She'd nearly forgotten what passion felt like, but he made every memory perfectly clear, heightening her pleasure when he released his warmth inside her. It happened many times, each accompanied by heated kisses and panting breath. When at last he felt he had no more to give, he pulled himself from her, yet remained looming over her.

"I…I…I love you," he whispered, barely able to focus his eyes. She wrapped her arms tightly around him, pulling his body down to hers. Again he spoke those sacred words, having them reflect in her perfect voice.

"I love you," she slowly began to feel sleep take over, exhausted from the ordeal. His last few kisses tasted of salt, coated in the same fluid that dripped from his hair, coating her in small drops of warmth.

"Please…" she whispered. Her blurry eyes slowly fell shut. "Please, never leave me…" Justin slipped to the cushion beside her, wrapping his arm tightly over her waist.

"I promise," he whispered, and let sleep steal his sight.

(****)

He awoke late to a pure, feverish sound. The sky was still dark, moon lost from sight. He looked around as best he could, feeling movement beside him. It was Elizabeth, apparently dreaming about what had happened between them. He stroked her hair until she awoke, feeling her warm breath come in a burst.

"Justin," she whispered, running a slim hand down his chest. "Justin, please…"

He felt his lips curl in a grin, moving above her. He searched her face with his warm lips, heart already racing. Elizabeth wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close so her body was pressed against his. He held her so tightly he could feel her pulse. Again he leaned to kiss her, but gasped sharply in pain. He pulled away from her, clutching his side as he flipped on his bedside light. Elizabeth had his navy covers pulled to her chest, gazing about in confusion and worry. She looked down, screaming when she saw the dark stain spreading along the white sheet. She looked up to see her lover's hand covered in blood, a long, slim wound in his left side. She leaned forward, pressing her hand on the edge of the stain, but quickly pulled her hand back. The center of her hand was also bleeding.

"Call Ages," Justin said faintly. She nodded, only to find that the phone line had been cut. She sighed, putting her feet to the floor. She reached down, grasping the shirt he'd worn the night before, pulling it over her head. She then raced to the kitchen, only to find the phone cord cut. It was the same issue with every phone in the house. She nearly broke down, seeing his cell on the hall counter. It was black, blending with the shadows until she turned on the screen. She quickly dialed the doctor's number, forcing back tears as she begged for his help. He said he'd be over as soon as he could.

The knock came minutes later, and Ages was escorted to the bedroom, where Justin still lay. He was still, trying to prevent his blood from flowing any more quickly than it already was. Ages set to work, with Elizabeth watching nervously from the side. He'd done this many times before, and was finished in minutes. He covered the stiches in a patch of cloth, taping it in place. Justin turned to the stain, which wasn't as large as he'd first thought it to be. He was about to speak, when he noticed a glimmering tip. He down, running his fingers around it, feeling a strange outline; almost like a folded note. He slowly tore the cloth surrounding it, revealing the tip of a small, bent knife, tied to a piece of folded cardstock. The message on it was written in Spanish, his name the first word.

"Justin," he translated. He glanced at Elizabeth, who nodded. "Justin, I know the truth, and now there is no way you can escape. Your lover's children have become my prisoners, and they will remain unharmed as long as you cooperate." That was it, the rest having been torn off. Elizabeth rushed to the living room, her scream once more echoing through the house. Justin was the first to reach her, Ages close behind. She was leaning against the wall when they found her, hiding her face in her hands. He moved closer, seeing a torn blanket; one his aunt had crocheted. There was also a small bit of paper resting on the couch, a torn edge matching the piece he still held in his hand. But most of the words were blurred beyond recognition. The only thing he could catch was muerte: death.

(****)

Arron let the phone drop from his hand, the thud echoing as it hit the floor. He'd just gotten a call from the Shadow, telling him that he had Teresa in his clutches, and that there was only one way to free her. He knew about Arron's special talent, and wanted him to use it. He swept the phone back in his hand, voice hard as he said. "Let me see her; I won't make a deal until then."

Shadow chuckled. "Fine. Come tonight. Alone." The line clicked off. Enraged, Arron tossed the phone with all his might, sending it crashing to the floor after hitting the far wall. But he didn't understand why he felt this way. He'd met Teresa the morning before, and had almost instantly begun treating her as his girlfriend; he'd taken her on a date after school, kept other boys from getting near her, and had been suppressing the urge to kiss her since he'd driven her home the night before. He wondered what it could be, then remembered his parents telling him about the night they had met. It had been love at first sight, and now his own heart pound with the emotion. He quickly made a choice, and went up to his room.

He grabbed his gun, which his father had given him a few years before, and an extra pack of bullets. He made sure it was loaded, slamming in a full clip. His aim was perfect, a death trap for anyone who came within range. He barely remembered to grab his keys on the way out, hopping into his truck. The engine wouldn't start, and it didn't take him long to find out why.

"Ah, dammit," he glanced back toward the garage, seeing the motorcycle he'd bought from his cousin. The steel bike was nearly solid black, the silver accents hidden by the sheet he kept over it. The gas tank was full, the key still in the ignition.

_Don't worry, Teresa, _he thought, revving the engine. He roared out into the silent streets, heading for the south edge of town. _I'm coming for you._


	8. Chapter 8

_Yet another that took me forever to get up. Stupid school!_

* * *

><p>"Let me out, let me out!" Teresa pounded on the steel door of her cell, screaming as loud as she could. "You assholes, let me out!"<p>

"Shut your mouth, bitch," the burly guard struck the opposite side, the sound shocking her into silence. He glared at her from beneath frosted brows, almost leering. He longed to have his way with the feisty teenager, but Shadow had warned of brutal punishment for anyone who messed with her, or her siblings. And Shadow was one to stick to his threats. Several guards had already felt his fury, having decided to ignore his orders. But Thomas cared about his body too much, and was willing to wait until he got the go ahead. "You're not getting out, no matter how much you scream."

"Where are my siblings?" she demanded. Her knuckles were white as she gripped the bars on the small window. "What have you done with them?"

"That is none of your concern," this voice was different; smoother, colder. Thomas saluted, nodding sharply.

"Sir," he spoke flatly. Shadow smiled, coming forth from the gloom. His long hair was jet black, skin whiter than snow. His emerald eyes were cold and jaded, fine lips curled in a sneer as he gazed at his young prisoner.

"They have not been harmed, as of yet," he continued. "But that will only last as long as you cooperate."

"What do you want with me?" Teresa had backed away from the door, standing with her arms crossed at her chest. Her sapphire eyes were icy as they glared into his. Shadow smiled, revealing the pearl daggers he had for teeth. His only response was to pull out a small key, strapped to his wrist with a slim piece of black leather. He unlocked her cell, taking hold of her arm.

"Right now there is someone who wishes to meet with you," he said quietly, and brought her slowly forward. Thomas watched with barely concealed lust as she was led away, eyes locked on the figure barely hidden by her thin dress. He looked away only when she had vanished from sight.

Shadow brought her to a large room, seemingly empty. There were no windows, and the only other door was sealed from the outside. It had been built so that there was no chance of escape. That door opened with a rusted creak, revealing two more burly young men trying to restrain a person who wasn't much smaller; he was blond, angry and fighting.

"Let go of me!" he pulled himself free, expertly kicking one of them in the chin. The door slammed shut before he could cause worse damage. His breath was heavy, clothes nearly torn off. He turned into the chamber, green eyes widening. "Teresa!"

"Arron!" surprisingly, Shadow let her go, allowing her to run into the arms of her friend. "Oh, Arron…"

"Oh, Teresa," he held her tightly, then pulled away to stare in her eyes. He ran his hands through her hair, which had been freed of its previous ponytail, holding her face as he rested his forehead against hers. "I was furious when I heard they had taken you."

"I'm alright," she whispered. Her fingers slipped to the back of his neck. She breathed deeply, enjoying the combination of scents that flooded from him; a sexy combination of cologne, sweat, and earth. She wanted to say more, but didn't get the chance. Arron had kissed her, pushing his tongue past her lips in a rush of passion. She could barely breathe as he pulled his lips away, once more staring into her eyes.

"I love you, Teresa," he hissed. "I know it sounds crazy, but I do; I truly do."

She stared at him; feeling shocked, then slowly went in for another sweet kiss.

(****)

Jeremy was shaking, gazing fearfully down at the object in his hands. He'd seen them before, plenty of times, and had seen the damage they could do. But he had never shot one, least not that he could remember. His eldest brother, who was a dozen years older than he was, had told him more than once of that one shot, the same one that had haunted him ever since.

He'd been two, his brother fourteen, and they'd been walking home from his school one when a man had stopped them, forcing them into an alley between two brick buildings. His right hand had clasped an old Colt 45. He'd cornered them, demanding their money, threatening to shoot when they wouldn't hand it over. Andrew shoved Jeremy behind him, shoving his fist into the thief's hooded face. He staggered back, dropping the gun, which the toddler picked up out of curiosity. He looked up to see Andrew fighting for his life, bare fists slashed and bleeding by a long knife the thief held in his hand.

He began to feel scared, seeing how easily the crook shoved Andrew against the wall, free hand pressed around his neck. He looked away, and the next second a large bang deafened them both. Jeremy opened his eyes, seeing smoke rise from the muzzle of the gun he still held, his hands covered in bits of skin, bone, blood, and brain. His eyes drifted upward, seeing the thief's body fall to the ground. The top portion of his head had been blown off, leaving a jagged line of skull visible from beneath fragmented skin, one eye completely torn free of its socket. Andrew leaned back against the brick wall, trying to get the breath back in his lungs. He looked to his infant brother, who had just started crying in fear.

"It's okay, Jeremy," he held the boy close, hiding his face in his chest. He walked slowly around the spreading crimson puddle, keeping his eyes glued to the distant street lights. They wouldn't speak of this unless they had to, and they hoped it would never come up again. He glanced once at the blood that coated the ground, seeing no footprints. He tightened his grip on his still sobbing brother, running into the night.

(****)

Timothy opened his eyes, unable to see. He could feel the warmth of his siblings, knowing that they were still asleep. He couldn't though, as his mind was working too rapidly. He was trying to figure out what all of this had to do with his family, why they had been kidnapped by someone they didn't even know. He glanced once more around the chamber; there was still no source of light. His stomach growled, reminding him of the meals he had missed since his capture. They were each fed only once a day, just enough to keep their bellies from hurting.

_But what do they want with us? _An answer came to him almost at once. _They're using as bait. They know that Justin is going to find us. They plan to kill him when he does. _It fit together all too well. First, Justin is poisoned mere days after a massive prison break, and is attacked again just after being released from the hospital. He sends Mr. Ages down to North Carolina, to get Elizabeth. Then just days after he and his siblings are kidnapped, but Teresa manages to escape. He knew it was all part of one, far larger plan, but he could form no idea about what it may be.

_They want Justin out of the way, _he figured. _They know he's the only person who would be able to stop them. _That brought another piece to mind; that strange man, the one who never showed them his face, the one known only as Shadow. He was in charge, there was no doubt about that, and he also held a massive grudge against their friend. But why? Then he remembered the story his mother had told them about their father's secret life, how he had lived beyond the law for more than a decade. He began to wonder just how many of the commandments his father had broken, and came up with a frightening list.

_You shall have no other gods before Me- _That one he wasn't quite sure about. He didn't even know if his father had worshipped God to begin with.

_You shall not make for yourself a carved image-_ Again; he couldn't be sure about it. Did worshipping money count? Well, it did have an image, and the materials in it had begun in stone, so…

_You shall not take the name of the LORD your God in vain-_ That one he was sure of. Timothy had heard his father curse in God's name more than once, and had the feeling he had gotten the others started too.

_Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy-_ That one had pretty much been ignored by everyone, especially his father. Saturday was Jonathan's main day for sneaking out, and most of the time he hadn't come back until Monday morning.

_Honor your father and your mother-_ That one was almost too easy. Jonathan hated his parents.

_You shall not murder- _He recalled hearing about multiple deaths on the news, the causes of most which remained undetermined. His father was a thief; maybe he was a killer too.

_You shall not steal-_ He'd just reasoned that. His father had been stealing since his childhood.

_You shall not commit adultery_- Another easy one. Elizabeth had caught her husband once with another woman, and had spent two weeks fuming about it. There had also been rumors that he'd gone around more than once with a man.

_You shall not bear false witness against your neighbor-_ Timothy had never fully gotten what that one meant, but figured it said you shouldn't accuse your neighbors of crimes they didn't commit. He faintly remembered hearing his parents argue one night, about how more than one of their credit cards had been maxed out, when they'd made a pact to use them as little as possible. Jonathan had blamed his friends the Walkers, and more specifically, their teenage daughter Mellisa.

_You shall not covet anything that is your neighbor's-_ That was another big one. Jonathan had been overheard more than once saying that he should be the one living the high life, not the people that had abandoned him. But he had never said exactly whom he'd been talking about, and now they could only speculate.

He counted again on his hands, coming up with eight out of ten. Apparently their father wasn't as honest as they had thought him to be, but he had the feeling that it was only going to get worse. Or maybe it already had. He lay back down amongst the warmth of his siblings, feeling Cynthia's head rub up against him. He smiled, putting his arm around her. He was no longer weaker than her, or as small, having grown dramatically since his bout with pneumonia. He figured the country air had also helped him out.

"Don't worry, Cynthia," he whispered to her. "We won't be here much longer." He fell asleep moments later, second before a silent door came open, revealing a heavily shadowed face.

"Indeed, little one," a smooth voice said darkly. "You only have a small time left to worry…" he laughed, then disappeared.

(****)

Teresa sat curled on the floor, head buried in her folded arms. She and Arron had been locked back in her original cell, their cries cut off by a thick piece of steel latched over the small hole in the door. Arron had spent the last ten minutes pounding at the metal, nearly denting it. He only stopped once he saw the bruise that had formed on his hand, dyeing his tanned skin a sickly purple hue. Yet there was no feeling of pain. Only of shame.

"I'm sorry," he suddenly hissed. He turned to her, tears fighting to fall from his eyes. He kept them back, pulling the gun from its place in his waistband. "I came here to free you, but they were ready for me."

"It's alright," she said quietly, lifting her head. Her dark tendrils of hair were stuck to her face with salty water. She suddenly yawned, a soft, innocent sound. He came, kneeling beside her, wanting to free her. "You're here now," she whispered, laying down. She rested her head on her folded hands. "And that's all that matters."

"Here," he pulled off what remained of his torn shirt, folding it into a thin cushion. He lifted her head gently with his hand, placing it beneath her. Her eyes widened as they drifted over his bare torso. Her mouth suddenly began to water. He was about five inches shorter than Justin, but just as muscular, with the same heartbreaking grin. He leaned closer, lips mere inches from hers. His breath smelled of pepper and spearmint, his soft kiss a welcome surprise. She sighed, wrapping her arms tightly around him, running her nails lightly down his back. She felt his hands slide to her waist, pulling her tightly against him.

"I love you," he whispered. His green eyes stared deeply into hers. Her only response was a shuddering sigh, her tears breaking free. He wiped them away, resting his forehead against hers. He slowly began kissing her neck, bringing deep sighs from her throat, as her hands pressed against his shoulders.

"Arron, please," she whispered. He pulled away, gazing curiously at her. She could see the longing in his eyes all too clearly, trying to suppress the feelings that flooded her pounding heart. She ran a hand down his well-muscled chest, stopping at the line of his torn jeans. "Please," she repeated. "Not here, not now."

He continued to stare at her, then pulled gently away. He lowered her head back onto the improvised pillow, settling down beside her. She could feel the disappointment in his touch as he draped his arm across her, as his lips again fell to her neck.

"I'll wait as long as I need to," he whispered, then they both drifted into sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

The engine roared in his ears, deafening the echo of gunshots. He'd made the mistake of going into the south side of town, where most of the town's crime took place. He'd come at dusk, about two hours before he should have, hoping to take him by surprise. He hadn't even made it to the south woods.

"Ugh!" the two tires had been shot, his motorcycle spinning out from under him. He landed hard on the pavement, throwing a somersault to prevent further injury. He landed on his feet, gun clasped in his hands. The shooters had hidden themselves amongst the crumbling buildings, lost from his sight, but not from his instincts.

"I know where you are," he whispered, and casually ejected the clip. It was full. He shoved it back in, cocking the weapon just as the sound echoed from a nearby alley. He froze, watching the shadows, seeing one rise from the mass of the rest. It was shaped like a human hand.

Blood exploded from a silent shot, a sharp click sounding as the metal gun clattered to the pavement. The agonized scream was soon silenced, the origin knocked unconscious. Rodregez pulled the boy deeper into the gloom, laying him on a discarded bedspread. The other officers would be here in a matter of moments; he would be found long before he bled to death. He looked back into the streets, barely feeling the bitter wind, seeing as the boys began drifting out of their hovels. One of them was familiar, a tall, handsome youth that shared some of his features. It was his nephew, the son of his older sister, Alana. "Zach!"

Zach turned his head, feigning surprise. His uncle came here often, and he had become something of an informant. Holding his weapon tightly in his hands, he ventured slowly away from his friends, closer to the alley where Rodregez lay in wait.

"Hola, tío," he began. He spoke in Spanish, so no one would get suspicious. Still, he risked a glance back at his 'friends' "¿Que paso?"

His uncle's reply was cut off by the sounds of sirens, echoing throughout the slum. Zach turned, dropping his gun, pulling off the bandana that marked him as a member of the gang. He tossed the black piece of cloth into the trash, knowing he had plenty more at home. He turned back, seeing someone vanish deeper into the gloom. He sighed, shaking his head as he stepped back into the street. Several officers had their guns drawn, others wrestling the gang members into waiting cruisers. He lifted his hands, seeing another shadow vanish behind the flood of headlights.

(****)

Elizabeth stared out the window, watching the sky. She was alone, with only the creaking of the old house to keep her company. Justin had vanished after a steamy few hours, and Jeremy had been in town since the night before. She kept trying to figure out what all of this had to do with them, and why they had been forced into it in the first place. Not that she minded that much. In truth, she'd been dying to see Justin since the moment he'd left; she just wished they could have been reunited by more pleasant circumstances.

The door distracted her musings. She strode quickly to the front hall, seeing Justin pull his filthy boots from his feet. His black jacket was torn in the sleeve, the rip mirrored in the short sleeve of his shirt. The white cloth around the space was stained with blood. She went closer, eyeing the scar visible on his shoulder. The thought of that night still frightened her, yet also filled her with warmth. But something was wrong. His dark eyes lost their joyful gleam the moment he looked at her. He kissed her; deeply, passionately, holding her to his chest with all his strength. She gazed deep in his eyes as he pulled away, seeing rage, confusion, and fear.

"I know where your children are," he whispered. "But I don't think you'll like it."

"Tell me," she answered. She kept her hands pressed to his chest. "Where are they?"

"Shadow has them," he explained. "In an old garage on the south side of town. I don't know what he wants with them," he continued, taking her hands. He brushed the hair from the side of her face."But I'm going to get them out of there; I promise."

She gazed at him, then threw her arms around his neck. "Thank you," she whispered, gripping his shirt. "For everything."

He held her in return, feeling her tears drip to his shoulder. "I'm going tonight," he said quietly. "When they least expect it, and I won't return until they're safe." Again their eyes met, but Elizabeth looked away crying.

(****)

Arron was fuming. He had seen no sign of Teresa's younger siblings, even after knocking out a man and stealing his uniform. He'd used the guard's knife to crop his blond hair, the sunglasses to hide his vivid green eyes. He now walked with a gun clasped in his hands, glancing into every cell for children who fit the descriptions he'd been given. He dare not whisper their names, for fear of giving himself away. He looked in the last cell, hearing scared whimpering. The low lighting allowed poor visibility, but he could make out three people huddled in one corner of the stone floor. Arron reached into his pocket, spraying the door's hinges to prevent them from creaking, he then brought out an old iron key, a tiny skull etched into the top. It fitted perfectly, and the ancient door made no sound as he pushed it slowly open. He glanced around once to make sure the halls were still bare. They were. He then turned to the children seated in front of him.

The oldest, a boy, appeared to be twelve or thirteen, with a build that suggested he played a few sports. His thick black hair was short and spiked, dark brown eyes full of defiance.

"Who are you?" he demanded, getting to his feet. He was nearly two feet shorter than Arron. "And what do you want?"

"I'm here to help you," Arron reached into a pouch at his side, bringing out some warm bread. "Here, you must be hungry."

The youngest, a little girl about four years old, was the first to accept it, appreciation evident in the dark eyes that matched her brother's. She also had Teresa's hair color, the short strands pulled from her face by dirty pink clips. Arron nearly smiled as she set the piece in the apron of her torn dress. The middle child was also a boy, with short black hair and stunning blue eyes. He seemed about seven, and was far thinner than his older brother.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"My name's Arron," the teen told him. "I was sent by your sister to find you."

"Teresa's here?" the young girl said quietly. She started to get up, but sat back down when the bread began to fall from her lap. Arron nodded.

"Yes, but I'm afraid you can't see her now." He handed the oldest a large bottle of water. It was warm, but full. "I'll come back in a few hours," he continued, backing from the cell. "Maybe you'll be able to then."

He shut the door, locking it just as steps echoed in the hallway. He had already vanished when two other guards moved around the corner. The shorter one was bald on top, but had a long ponytail drifting down his back. He also had a short mustache and goatee. Dark sunglasses hid his eyes, gloved hands clasped around a semiautomatic. The younger was taller, broader, with dark skin that nearly blended with his black uniform. His eyes were also hidden, the brim hat resting backwards on his head. He carried a submachine gun, with a black sheath resting at his right shoulder. The pair glanced through the bars of the cell window, harsh poses slipping when they saw the children inside. They were taking turns drinking from a large bottle, spots of crumbs visible around them. They smiled, knowing Arron had done his work.


	10. Chapter 10

Justin cocked his gun, watching the garage through his darkly tinted windows. He'd parked his truck fifty yards down the path, hidden in the dense undergrowth. The growing shadows only worked to his advantage, telling him that the sun was now setting, the moon barely visible in the black sky. The stars were hidden by a fine mist, shrouding them further into darkness. He was waiting for just the right time, when the guards fell asleep, which they were liable to do in such dismal weather. Their heads were beginning to nod, weapons falling from their hands.

One by one, they sat down in the damp grass, resting their heads back against the rough wood of the walls, their eyes falling shut beneath their soiled hoods. The edges of his lips curled into the ghost of a smile. It wouldn't be long now. He glanced Jeremy's face through one of the hoods, the lad nodding almost imperceptibly. He followed the act, allowing the rifle to slip from his hands, the seat of his pants coming in contact with the pile of wood he leaned against. In a few minutes he looked as asleep as the others. He waited a few minutes longer, the sounds of his door hidden by the thunder and rain, motions lost to view by the branches flailing in the wind. Jeremy got back to his feet, smiling nervously.

"So, what now?" he asked, glancing into the dark. Justin didn't answer, seeing the door wide open; almost as though they were expecting him. His fingers tightened, knuckles nearly white. He was trying to control the anger he felt, knowing they were too afraid to face him directly, that they had to kidnap those he cared about to gain confrontation. He glanced back at his young friend, who picked up his rifle. They then plunged into the depths of the building.

(****)

The teens awoke to what sounded like horrid screaming. The ragged echoes scraped at their ear drums, nearly deafening. Teresa quickly began sobbing, recognizing the heart-breaking sound. Arron held her close, but she shoved him away, going to the door and pounding on it as hard as she could. She used some language he couldn't have imagined her saying, giving up only when a guard stuck his hand through the bars of the window, pushing her back.

"Enough of that," he said, smirking. Teresa gazed at him in shock, wondering if she'd seen those dark eyes before…

"Ages, you got that key?" it was Jeremy, with Justin's friend, Mr. Ages. But what were they doing here? "We're busting you out," Jeremy pulled the door open, but cast a weary glance at the boy behind her. Arron's eyes were sparking with foul temper, knuckles nearly white as his hands wrapped around the grip of his gun.

"What are you guys doing here?" Teresa stepped out into the hall, noting the scream had finally ceased. She wiped at the tears that stained her cheeks.

"We're getting you out of here," Jeremy repeated. He turned to the hallway's western end, seeing two shadows approach. One was much taller than the other, broader, and carried a machine gun. Teresa soon recognized him as the one who had kidnapped her and her siblings, the same one who had also helped to give them life. But she dared not speak as he came closer, leveling the weapon at their small group.

"You're not going anywhere."

(****)

Justin was on his own, moving silently through the many shadows that filled the narrow corridors. The old garage had been greatly modified, looking the same on the outside, but having the appearance of a medieval dungeon on the inside. The echo of voices was guiding him now, taking him to an unknown destination. He was trying to find Shadow's center of business, where one of them was destined to die.

The voices grew closer, seeming to come from a closed chamber at the end of the hall. He quickened his pace, not caring who he ran into, wanting only to get those children out of here. He turned one last corner, seeing double doors no taller than he was, cracked open to reveal a sliver of the room within. He crept closer, shoving open one with his shoulder, seeing the children huddle in a small cage. But it was only the younger three. Teresa was nowhere to be found.

"So glad of you to join us, Justin," a cold voice said darkly. He turned to see Jonathan step from the shadows, a wicked grin on his scarred face, a frightened young girl held in a chokehold. It was Teresa, bound, a gag tied across her mouth. Tears were dripping from her eyes. Still smirking, Jonathan gestured with his other hand, clasped around again. A ring of fire erupted on the walls, revealing a fully round room, a ladder leading to a catwalk fifty feet above. A single form stood upon it, Elizabeth clasped in his arms. She was screaming, but didn't dare push herself free. She couldn't even see the man's face, as it was lost in what little gloom remained.

"Justin," she shouted, seeing him. Only then did she fight to break free. "Justin!"

Justin lowered his eyes, sensing someone approach from behind. He turned, firing a single shot. The bullet hit a guard squarely in the chest, knocking him down. Three others emerged from the back, seeming to turn on their comrades. The hall erupted in gunfire, smoke tainting the air, multiple victims falling at once. Moments later the survivors retreated, leaving their emptied weapons behind. Three stayed however, the only ones who hadn't suffered from a wound. Justin hadn't been hit either, and ejected his empty clip. He shoved in a new one, cocking the weapon as he turned to Jonathan. Their eyes met, words not needed. The bitter anger filling his gaze was enough, throwing the killer into a state of shock. "Let…her…go."

Jonathan laughed, and instead tightened his grip around his daughter's throat. "What will happen if I don't?"

Ages, Jeremy, and Arron came up, also aiming their weapons for the man's icy stone heart. Teresa gazed on in fear, barely able to breathe, when the man finally let her go. She moved behind Arron as Jon lifted his hands, gun falling from his grasp. Justin stepped forward, glare intensifying. His finger pressed down dangerously hard on the trigger, but he wouldn't shoot. In fact, he suddenly began to feel unsure, lowering his aim to the floor.

"You're just like your uncle," Jon hissed with contempt. "He was weak, which is why he deserved to die."

The gun clicked as it fell to the floor, steel ringing as a knife was drawn. "You murdered him," Justin said quietly. He looked back up at the demented man. His eyes held such fury that Jonathan backed away, and continued to do so as Justin moved toward him. Soon he felt his back hit the wall. Justin stopped about a foot away, knife still clasped in his hand, face turned to the floor. His arm lowered just a fraction. Jonathan gave him a look of contempt, arms still raised.

"You can't kill me," he hissed, then laughed. "You're weak, Justin, weak! You will never…"

Justin suddenly looked up, rage hitting the boiling point. He gave a savage yell, throwing his arm down, burying his blade in the man's icy heart. Jonathan clutched at the knife, trying to pull it away, unable to get a grip for the blood that spurted and leaked from the wound. In a few seconds he fell to his knees, then finally collapsed to the floor. Justin's breath was heavy, all anger erased from his gaze, as though washed away by the red fluid staining his boots. He turned to the people behind him, who stood open mouthed, unable to believe what they had just seen. His blood-spattered face then whipped to the platform, where his lover still stood. Her captor had her shoved against the edge, her bound hands no help as she plummeted from it. He ran to catch her, taking his gun back into his hand.

"Justin," her voice was a whisper, eyes wide with shock. But she wrapped her arms around him once her hands were free. He embraced her tightly in return. "Thank you," she whispered. They shared one, tender kiss. "Thank you."

"Are you alright?" he whispered to her. She smiled.

"I am now," she replied. He brought her to her feet, still holding her. She reached up, wiping the sweat and blood from his cheek, unable to take her eyes from his. His lips moved closer to hers, but the passion was broken by another shot, this time echoing from the catwalk. The bullet dug into Justin's side, stunning him. Elizabeth backed away, tears filling her eyes. Justin kept his back turned a minute too long, another shot lodging itself into his shoulder blade. Seemingly unaffected, he fired only once, hitting Shadow square in the chest. The man fell, hitting the floor, lying still. His killer moved closer, mouth gaping in shock. The dead man wasn't Jenner. Instead, the face staring blankly into his…was that of his own father. Justin gasped once, then abruptly fell, gun clicking on the stone floor.


	11. Chapter 11

She'd lost track of how many days had passed. The only way she had to measure the time was the bulge of her stomach, which grew bigger each month. She wiped the tears from her eyes, recalling what Mr. Ages had told her, how Justin had died peacefully in his sleep, just days after he had saved her children. Jeremy had brought them home the next morning, and Elizabeth's pain only increased when she found out she was pregnant, realizing that her child would never meet their father.

"Oh, Justin," she broke down crying, allowing her basket to fall from her grasp. She buried her face in her hands, falling to her knees. Almost instantly she heard the soft growl of a motor, and looked up to see a dark blue pickup truck pull into her driveway. Her heart began pounding, but she knew that it couldn't be him. It was probably Ages, or another of the Rats come to comfort her. She rose to her feet, yet kept her head bowed as the driver approached her. All she saw was a pair of scruffy work boots worn beneath jeans torn in one knee. She fought to keep the tears from falling as he lifted her head gently with a hand. Dark sunglasses hid his eyes, and his dark hair curled loosely around his ears. He had a strong jaw, covered in about two days' worth of stubble. He smiled, stroking her cheek.

"Sorry to disturb you," he whispered, as though he were ill. "But I was wondering if you knew where I could find Elizabeth Brisby?"

Her eyes widened. That voice; it couldn't be! He reached up, removing his glasses. He dropped them to the ground, taking her in his arms. She glanced once into his dark brown eyes, nearly crying with joy.

"Y-You're alive?" she whispered, his smile widened. "B-But I thought Ages said…"

"I know what Ages said," he spoke quietly, bringing his face closer to hers. "I'm sorry we lied to you." He let his lips fall gently on hers. She hugged him, feeling her feet leave the ground. She was thankful her children weren't home. It seemed hours before he pulled away, gazing at her. He felt something move beneath his hand, and looked down at her stomach, which was bigger than it should have been.

"How far along are you?" he asked, feeling movement again.

"About five months," she said shyly. She giggled, looking back up at him. His eyes had a hidden shine she hadn't seen for a long time. "I love you."

They spoke at the same time, gazes never parting, even when he slowly knelt in the soft green grass.

"Elizabeth," he whispered, taking her hand. She barely saw the slim ring he slipped on her hand. "Will you marry me?"

She smiled, slowly bringing him back to his feet. "It's not because of the baby, is it?" she said jokingly, knowing his answer. He chuckled.

"No, though that is part of it," he said, then became serious. "I love you, Elizabeth; I have since Jon first mentioned you, and now I want nothing more than to spend my life with you."

She looked down at the ring, then back up at him. The slim strand of silver felt warm on her hand, and she felt her heart burst with love for him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him deeply, giving an answer that needed no words. But she said them anyway.

"Yes," she whispered, pulling away. She smiled once more at her new fiancé. "Yes, I will."

* * *

><p><em>Well, its finally finished. Took longer than I thought, but its also a little shorter than I intended. Anyway, how would you guys feel about a sequel? Tell me in the reviews, or PM me; that's cool too!<em>


	12. Chapter 12

_Okay, I know this story is supposed to be finished, but I've had this chapter for a while, so I thought I'd give a little bonus action!_

* * *

><p>The sky was growing dark. Elizabeth stood at the living room window, hand on her swollen stomach. It had been little less than a month since she and Justin had gotten engaged, and less than two weeks after they'd moved with him to Virginia. Her parents had bought their old house down in Lee, saying they would come to escape the coldest days of the Alaska winter. She wasn't sure how much she was looking forward to seeing them.<p>

The click of a lock caught her attention, and she turned to see her fiancé emerge from the hallway. As usual, his blue uniform was spattered with dirt, a bit of blood trickling down from the corner of his lip. He smiled, wiping at it with the back of his hand. She sighed, rolling her eyes, turning back to stare at the horizon. She heard his steps approaching on the wood floor, felt his arms slide loosely around her. She sighed, tilting her head back against his chest. The pregnancy was taking everything out of her, and nightmares regarding those days prevented her from sleeping.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. His arms contracted. He held her more tightly. "I'm sorry for what I've put you through."

"It doesn't matter," she whispered, turning to him. Her hands came to rest lightly on his shoulders. She could still feel the scar from the night they had met. "I miss you though, during the day."

"I know," he replied, brushing her cheek. "But I'm afraid it can't be helped. This town is starting to get more dangerous, and I'm one of few officers willing to stay."

She smiled, kissing his scarred cheek. "I'm glad for that, though there are times when I wish you would find a safer profession."

He chuckled, bringing his face closer. "You may already know this," he whispered, and came closer still. "But I'm very, very hard to kill."

His lips touched hers, tongue soon sliding past. He knew she worried for him, but couldn't bring himself to leave this job behind. He found it odd, at certain times; he had lived most of his life amongst criminals, and had been one himself in his early childhood, but now he fought to put people like that behind bars, and to keep them there. He felt almost like some sort of traitor. But he would never tell her that, no matter how much his conscience begged him to. He broke the kiss, pulling away as though to catch his breath. He could see the fear in her perfect blue eyes, the worry and exhaustion that tainted their glittering depths.

"Jeremy said he'd watch the children tonight," she whispered suddenly, grinning slyly. "If only I weren't pregnant."

He smiled, letting his hand slip along her swollen belly. He could still feel the movement of his child. "You don't mean that, do you?" he asked in mock dismay. She smiled, gripping his collar.

"Of course not," she whispered, smiling. It faded as a yawn dropped from her lips. "I just wish I was able to sleep; the nightmares still haven't stopped."

"I'll talk to Ages about it," he whispered, pulling her close again. He let his chin rest on the top of her head. She smiled, allowing her head to fall back to his chest, the smooth sound of his heart almost lulling her to sleep. She felt his hand drift to cheek, tilting her face back to meet his.

"Why don't you try and get some rest?" he asked quietly. "I know how tired you must be."

Her lips curled, though faintly. She looked almost like she was going to argue, but then slowly nodded, going back to their room. Justin again wiped the blood from his lip, falling to the couch when he heard the door close. He sighed loudly, gazing up at the plain wooden ceiling of his home. The house had taken months to construct, and was large enough for several families. He remembered how the single men in the old group had decided to live together as housemates, to save room on the five hundred acres the Rats were splitting between them. They were planning on building their own, rather exclusive community, only allowing certain people in. But then things had drastically changed.

Justin now owned most of the land, Ages had taken fifty acres for himself, and until recently had lived alone in that huge house; the Rats had heard about the prison break, how their leader had died soon after, and had moved farther up north. A few had stayed longer, but then had skipped to some island off in the south pacific. He doubted he would ever see them again, and frankly didn't really care. Sure, he'd enjoyed living on the edge, but then Jonathan had told him of Elizabeth, reminding him that there was a brand new world outside the walls of the Rosebush, drastically changing his thoughts and opinions on life. Then he had found himself falling deeply in love.

Again he sighed, eyes drifting to the ash wood bookshelf standing in a corner of the room. Most of the books on there had been owned by his uncle, the collection one of the last physical pieces of his past, another being a guitar he hadn't touched in almost ten years. But there was one book in particular, actually more than one, that had no connection to Ryan or the Rats at all. He kept them separated, the oldest stashed in the room he used as a study. They recorded the vile truth of his position, what he really did to keep his country safe. He knew that Teresa had already found out, having found a fragment of metallic red nail polish in the pages, and what she must have thought of him. He hadn't confronted her about it, though, wanting to wait until she either came to him or someone else; he would find out regardless of who.

The front door crashed open, the sounds of happy children coming nearer as they entered the house. Cynthia was first to come to him, climbing onto his lap and clutching his shirt.

"We had a lockdown at school today," she said excitedly.

"Oh, really?" he asked, almost feigning interest. He really did enjoy the childrens' company, but felt he was putting them in danger, even if there was no longer anything to worry about.

"Yeah," she smiled. "One of the older kids had a pet snake, and it got loose."

"Did it?"

She nodded. "We were told to stay inside, cause it was dangerous; it was rainy anyway."

He laughed, setting her on the cushion beside him. He turned his gaze to the older children, grin fading from his lips. The right sleeve of Martin's black t-shirt had been torn off, a blood-stained bandage wrapped tightly around his upper arm. Teresa's face was stained with tears, and Timothy had his face buried in his grey sweater.

"What happened?" he asked. Martin was the first to speak.

"Our bus got held up," he began, voice tinged with rage. "The man had a gun, and basically took us all hostage."

"He told us he would kill anyone who dared move, and even knocked the bus driver unconscious." Teresa wiped at her sullen eyes. "It seemed he was serious about shooting us."

"He was serious," Martin told them. He motioned to the bandage. "I tried attacking him from behind, to distract him so that Arron could tackle him," he sighed. "It eventually worked, but not until I had already been shot. Thankfully the bullet just grazed me."

Timothy barely looked up, allowing only his eyes to be seen. His bright blue eyes were water from fear, and he was still shaking. "They came to arrest the guy, then people started coming up, wondering what had happened."

"A few said they were thankful that no one got hurt," said Martin. "No worse than I did at least. The only problem was that the man was able to get away."

"What did he look like?" Justin asked, feeling his instincts kick in. Something was very wrong here, and he was going to find out what it was, regardless of the circumstances.

"He was really big," said Timothy, finally taking his face out of his shirt. His cheek had a bruise the size of an adult's palm. "Bigger than you, Justin, and his hair was really long, but…"

"But," Martin continued, touching Tim's shoulder. "We weren't able to see his face; it was covered with some kind of mask." He thought a moment, then added, "He was also wearing solid black."

Justin kept his shock hidden. Where had he heard that description before? He recalled the day he had first left the hospital, the attack that had come on so suddenly. His attacker had worn a cologne similar to Jonathan's, but there had also been another odor, one he hadn't smelled since his fight with Jenner. He parted his lips to ask something else, only to find that the children were gone.

(****)

"I heard about what happened today," Elizabeth's voice was low, her eyes resting on the plate in front of her. Justin reached across the table, clasping her hand.

"No one was seriously hurt," he whispered back. "But the man got away."

Elizabeth continued to stare down at her meal, which remained untouched. She was hungry, but there was such dread in her heart that she felt nauseous, and felt she would vomit if she tried to eat. "I'm worried," she hissed. She glanced at him. "A-About the children. I'm afraid their lives could be in danger."

"Elizabeth," his grip tightened on her hand, until she looked up. "I won't lie to you. I have made a few enemies in my line of work, but I promise that, no matter what happens, I won't let them near you; you or the children."

She smiled, curling her fingers closer into his. The warm strength of his hand made her feel safe. She knew then that no one could touch her, not while he still had breath in his body, but it did nothing to cease her fear.

"I-I guess I'm just…frightened," she admitted, gazing up at him. "I-I've just…so much has happened, and…" she trailed off, unable to finish the thought. Justin smiled, lifting her hand to his lips. His eyes grazed over the slim ring adorning her finger, just one symbol of the love he felt for her.

"Anyone who wants you would have to kill me first," he promised her, grip tightening. Her lips curled.

"I'm hoping it doesn't come to that; I couldn't live without you."

Silence was a thick blanket after that. Justin was paying when he noticed her from the corner of his eye. She was bent over, hand to her stomach, looking ill. He'd barely turned in her direction when she vomited, a ghoulish puddle spreading at her feet. Then she started coughing, violently enough that she nearly collapsed.

"Elizabeth?" Justin gripped her shoulders tightly, trying to keep her on her feet. The hostess had just called for an ambulance, and assured them it would be there in minutes. The other employees went about cleaning the mess, a young man getting her a tall glass of cool water. Justin held it to her lips, but she pushed it away, suddenly crying. She clung to his shirt, burying her face in his chest. He wanted to ask what was wrong, but found himself unable to speak.

(****)

He was anxious enough that he couldn't sit still. He all but paced the small waiting room, watching the doors from the corner of his eye. Ages had come by not long after, sitting on a bench and tapping his foot, seeing his young friend's agitation.

"Justin, calm down," he said at last. He pulled his hand from the seat beside him, knowing the fear the man must have been feeling. "She's going to be fine."

"I can't calm down," Justin said in reply, but he lowered into the chair beside the old doctor. He buried his face in his hands, then ran them through his thick hair. "I don't understand it," he said at last. The ghost of a grin pulled at his lips, and he gave a small laugh. "I've never acted this way before…"

"You fell in love," Ages said plainly, as if that explained everything. Justin could only sigh, watching as the door slowly opened, revealing a young nurse.

"Mr. Rodregez?" she asked. Justin stood up, still looking worried.

"How is she?" he asked, fearing the answer. She smiled, checking the clipboard she had in her hands.

"I'll let her explain," she said, and stepped aside. Elizabeth looked as though she had never been sick, her face glowing as she dashed into his arms.

"Oh, Justin," she whispered. A tear of joy seemed to fall from her eye. His hand rested on her swollen stomach; he thanked God there was still movement. "We're having twins," she said quietly.

"What?" Justin was shocked, but in truth couldn't have been happier. She told him everything, relaying her own surprise when the doctor revealed she was pregnant with, not one, but two healthy boys, but the news about her illness wasn't as uplifting. In fact it was what he had feared since rescuing her from Shadow.

"Apparently my meal was drugged," she said, looking down. "He said I was lucky I ate as little as I did, because the amount in the food would have killed me."

Justin could only stare at her, feeling anger start to trickle past his fear. This sounded all too familiar; exactly what he had gone through several months earlier, which had led to his first trip to the hospital, and his return.

"You're alright, though?" he asked. It was all he could say.

"I'm perfectly fine now," she assured him, then gave a small yawn. "I'm still tired, though."

He smiled, not seeing the shadow vanish into the streets.

(****)

"So, he survived, did he?" the voice was close to Justin's, but held a savage undertone. A wild pair of dark blue eyes pierced through the growing darkness, sparking with their owner's foul temper. The man swept down from the helicopter, black trench coat whipping in the wind cast by the spinning blades. His shorter assistant backed away as he strode past, catching a glimpse of the pearl-handled weapon holstered to his chest. The true name of his boss was unknown, as he went simply by Shadow. Any who attempted to discover his true name ended up dead, so great was his desire for secrecy. He was presumed dead several years earlier, and intended to keep the truth hidden until his victim was in his grasp.

"I-I am afraid so," the short man replied, well aware of his fury. Shadow paced through the hall with his hands shoved deep in his pockets, a scowl darkening his handsome features.

"Where are the others?" he snapped.

"Dead," Andrew informed him. "They were killed when…" he choked, Shadow's hand wrapped tightly around his throat. The man lifted him easily from the floor, black eyes meeting blue as he was pulled to his master's face.

"You allowed them to escape?" he bellowed.

"W-We had no choice," Andrew rasped, feet writhing as they strived to reach the floor. "They k-killed most of our men before they…knew what hit them…"

Shadow suddenly dropped him; Andrew coughed as he tried to pull the air back into his lungs. He gazed at Shadow's hard face, seeing the glare always evident in those soulless eyes. But then a smile began to curl his fine lips, and a dark laugh slipped from his throat. He suddenly turned, heading deeper into his home, leaving Andrew to deal with the shivers growing in his spine.


End file.
